


thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in

by nonsensedarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha Liam Payne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Beta Niall Horan, Beta Zayn Malik, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Financial Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Louis Tomlinson Wears Harry Styles's Clothes, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Omega Louis, Scenting, Smut, mentions of mpreg, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensedarling/pseuds/nonsensedarling
Summary: Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation  (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 115
Kudos: 2040
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to dearlou for being The Best, as a beta and a friend. And also for coming up with the title of this fic because I was hella stuck.  
> Additional shoutouts to Lexi and Elizabeth who have both listened to me go on and on (and/or whine) as I wrote this.  
> Additional, additional shoutout to Bridget for inspiring me to make a playlist and for being hype about my writing even when I'm being weird about it.  
> #InShort #ihavelovelyfriends
> 
> ********************  
> Prompt 373: alpha harry, omega louis uni au where harry donates a bunch of his old clothes to goodwill or another thrift shop and louis (being a broke uni student) buys harry’s old clothes. then harry notices louis one day wearing his clothes in class and gets hot n bothered because we all know harry thoroughly enjoys louis in his clothes even though they’re 3 sizes too big. extra points if harry is a frat boy.  
> ********************

It starts when Liam binge-watches all of  _ Tidying Up with Marie Kondo _ on Netflix. 

It’s the beginning of term in early September and everyone is starting to get settled into some sort of routine. Harry and Liam’s house is beginning to empty out on weekend days as their alpha fraternity brothers spend their time in the library, at their part-time jobs, or walking the campus in hopes of flirting with pretty omegas. 

Harry’s reading in his bed, lounging and having a perfectly nice Saturday afternoon —he’s lucky enough to have a job at the campus bookstore that leaves his weekends free— when Liam barges in. He starts going on and on about Marie Kondo and holding things and seeing if they bring you joy. Harry nods along, listening to him talk, but he keeps his book open in one hand, thumb holding open the spot. 

“It’s all about loving the things you have, it makes you appreciate them more,” Liam says. He gestures around Harry’s —okay, admittedly somewhat cluttered— room. 

“Well, that’s convenient because I love all of my things.” And he does. He loves his nicknacks and he loves his photos and he loves his clothes. 

“H,” Liam says, “You have like 50 tops.”

He’s actually pretty certain he has way more than 50, but he doesn’t bring it up because it would only prove Liam’s point. “Yeah, so?” he asks instead. 

“So,” Liam says, with the air of a man who thinks he’s nagging you for your own good. “That’s too many tops. You don’t wear all of them.”

“Yeah, but I love all of them, and didn’t you just say it’s all about loving the things you have?”

Liam breaks down and lets out a huff that turns into a whine. “Harry.”

Harry finally puts down his book, and only realizes he forgot to mark the page after he’s done it. “Is this another ploy to get that beta to notice you?”

“No,” he says haughtily, like how dare Harry even ask. But then Harry leans forward and gestures with an open hand. Liam just about collapses against the doorframe. “He works at the thrift shop.”

Harry smiles. “The one just off campus?”

Liam nods and sighs. “I heard him telling his friend in our course that he gets first dibs on all the weird shit for his art.”

Liam and his crush have  _ Basic Maths  _ together, which is the maths course they make you take when you have trouble with anything more than 4x5. Harry tries not to smile because Liam is a bit sensitive about it. At least, he was, until he found something to keep him going. (That something being brooding eyes, serious eyebrows and the lovely and somehow physics-defying hair, as Liam tells it). 

“Alright, just go shopping there or something.”

“But that’s not a conversation starter.”

“Okay, donate some of your own things, then.”

“I am, but what if we did a fraternity cleansing. You know, spring cleaning as part of our philanthropy.” 

“It’s fall, Liam. And how is donating clothes going to count as charity work?”

“Fall cleaning, then. And it’s a nonprofit. We’ll donate some money from our fund, too!”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll back you up. Just bring it up during our next meeting.” He picks his book back up and opens it, assuming that’s the end of the conversation. 

“I need you to suggest it, actually,” Liam says in a soft voice. When Harry looks up at him, unimpressed, he continues, “Darren and Mitch will take the mickey if I bring it up, but everyone will jump on board if you say it. ”

Darren and Mitch have been rather relentless with Liam lately. Mostly because Liam is the one who bugs them all about revising in order to keep their house GPA up, and always at inopportune times, like when they’re about to head out for a mixer. Now that they’ve gathered that Liam’s goo-goo eyed over a new boy, it’s been non-stop teasing. 

Harry closes his book again. “So you want me to bring it up like it’s my idea, get the guys to donate their shit and donate a bunch of my shit? All just to help you flirt?”

Liam winces and looks down at his feet. 

Harry shrugs and nods. “Yeah, alright.”

Liam’s head shoots back up, giant grin on his face. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” 

“Thank you, thank you! But I swear, it’s a great method. Do you want me to show you how Marie does it?” Liam asks, eyes bright.  _ Marie,  _ like they’re friends. 

“No,” Harry says, opening his book again, flipping through the pages to try and find where he left off. 

“Okay, totally fine.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Liam do a little dance as he leaves Harry’s room. Harry just shakes his head, finds his spot and settles back against his headboard to continue reading. 

The rest of their brothers really take to the idea, and even take Liam up on his offer to show them the Marie Kondo style. The only making-fun happens when Pledges are cleaning out the refrigerator as a part of their initiation chores, they exaggerate thanking the food for providing for them even when it’s their time to go. Liam does think it’s a little funny, but Harry politely suggests they spend their Saturday afternoon cleaning the entire kitchen. Faces fall as they get to work. 

Harry spends nearly double the time his brothers do just staring at all of his things. 

He looks at his photographs in a shoebox on a top shelf, that he’s apparently supposed to put in frames and hang about the room —but seriously, who has time for that? 

And then at his books; the past textbooks that he’ll never read again, especially, ones he knows he should donate, but likes having the reminder he took Food Chemistry and that he actually passed Economics 101. 

And then at the mountain of paper he has in folders and in his lockbox; old holiday cards and posters from his friends for his 19th birthday and academic papers he’s proud of and a love letter from his ex-boyfriend (who he’s still on really good terms with, but has no more feelings for —or maybe never did, if he’s being exceptionally honest with himself— but even so, it’s a nice reminder that someone once had romantic feelings for him). 

Liam says he’s supposed to get rid of nearly all of it. All of it. Like he could part with the postcard his sister sent him from her study abroad in Amsterdam. Like he could let go of the program from his Little’s first musical. Like he could bare to throw away his paper chronicling the parallels in pop music and rises in other genres in the twentieth century (he got an A, by the way, and his professor even submitted it for review to the uni’s magazine).

He shoves those three things in the bottom drawer of his bedside locker and does his best to trash the rest, even if it’s a little painful to let go of the phone number scrawled across a napkin, slipped into his hand at the last frat party from a very pretty omega, whom he has no intention of calling.

Harry saves his closet for last, because he truly doesn’t want to deal with it. He wants to keep all of his jeans and all of his tops and all of his snapbacks, even if he is wearing them less and less. 

He pulls out the things he wears most often and sets them aside, until he’s left with clothes ranging from a grungy t-shirt sporting the logo from a band he doesn’t listen to that much any more, to a maroon blouse with a pussybow at the front.  _ What if I want to be a rocker for Halloween? Or a very fashionable pirate? What if I lose ten pounds and fit into those skinny jeans again? Or what if I gain weight and need that jacket to cover it up? _

Surrounded by clothes, he can only sigh and rub his temples. He has to remember that he’s doing this for Liam. But… but he’s also doing this for himself. Because as much as he loves all of these things, as much as he wants to keep them just in case, most of them he doesn’t love like he loves his big fluffy grey jumper or the black jeans with rips at the knees or his well-worn blue polkadot button-down. So one by one he says a (mildly) painful goodbye to some of his favorites as he shoved them in a bag for donation. 

In the end, he only has one bag, but he thinks he’ll still call it progress, because the stuff he’s donating is quality. And quality over quantity, isn’t that what they say? 

He hides a few shirts he doesn’t wear very often under his bed in case Liam comes to look. He doesn’t to be fair, and Harry can’t tell if he is or isn’t surprised, seeing how on-edge Liam is as donation day gets nearer and nearer. 

A week after the idea is proposed, they have enough donations to fill Harry’s SUV to the brim. Liam has to put his feet on a box and hold a garbage bag full of clothes in his lap in order to get all of it in one go. 

When they pull up behind Second Chances (“Pull up around back, it’ll be easier to unload and sort everything,” someone in a thick Bradford accent had said to Harry over the phone), Liam practically leaps out of the car and over to the door. After Harry actually parks the car, he follows Liam inside. 

Behind the counter, there is a strikingly beautiful man with fierce eyebrows and intense cheekbones drawing on a sketchpad and not paying attention to a thing around him. Liam is practically drooling over him as he tries to get his attention with little waves of his hand. This has to be Liam’s crush. 

Harry elbows Liam in the side, which causes him to grunt and ultimately that’s the thing that gets the man to look up at them. Harry smiles his winning smile and says, “Hi, I called earlier about the donations from Alpha Sig.”

The man just nods and puts his pencil down on the sketchpad. “Right,” he says. And Harry recognizes the voice as the same that talked to him on the phone earlier. “If you want, you can put the stuff just outside the door and I’ll grab someone to help me bring it in and sort it.”

“Nonsense!” Harry just about shouts. “We can bring the stuff where it’s most helpful to you.”

Harry looks down and notices a nametag on the front of the man’s plain black shirt.  _ Zayn _ , it reads. 

Zayn blinks a little too intensely from Harry raising his voice, but otherwise doesn’t react. “Yeah, alright. If you want to just bring it here, I can take it back behind the counter.”

“Great! I’ll leave Liam here to sort through any paperwork or anything you need from us.” He claps Liam on the back, and Liam moves forward a little from the force of it. 

“It’ll be a donation form so we can call if there’s anything weird or looks like it was donated accidentally. And then the philanthropy form for your fraternity, if you want that.” He turns around to the wall behind him that’s lined with cubed shelves. Some of them are empty and some have things haphazardly shoved in with tags on them. He pulls a piece of paper from one blue and one green tray in the little cube directly behind him. 

Harry gestures with his eyes to the sketchpad on the desk to Liam, who doesn’t seem to be getting it. Harry makes sure Zayn’s turned all the way around before he points to the drawing and then makes a talking motion with his hand, like it’s a puppet. 

It dawns on Liam, and Harry makes his way back to his SUV to start unpacking when he hears Liam clear his throat and say, “Uh, so… that’s uh, that’s really good. Did you trace it?”

Harry winces but refrains from turning back around to help Liam, knows he has to do this on his own. 

He’s starting to unpack the car when a figure comes from around the corner. As the figure gets closer, Harry’s senses are hit with an overwhelming citrus that makes his mouth water a little.  _ Omega,  _ he can’t help but think. But then shakes himself out of it, because he’s better than objectifying someone like that. 

But then the figure becomes a fully realized person: a boy with soft sun-kissed skin and honey-colored hair and a curvy little body covered in a baggy sleeveless tank and black skinny jeans. It makes Harry’s hand twitch with the need to pull him in and start licking and biting all over his neck. 

Jesus what the fuck is wrong with him. Maybe he’s closer to his rut than he thought. That has to be it. 

Harry picks up a heavy box —probably filled with Calvin’s unused astronomy textbooks— and tries to ignore the boy for fear of what he might do if he focuses more attention on him. 

“Oi, you need help?” He hears from behind him. 

When Harry turns to look, he’s accosted with a bright smile and even brighter blue eyes. It takes everything in his willpower to not take an obvious deep breath through his nose and suck in all the smell radiating off of him. 

“Uh,” Harry says. He then shakes himself out of it and switches to only breathing through his mouth. “No, no that’s okay.”

The boy gestures behind himself to the thrift shop. “You headed in there?” Harry just nods a little. “I am too. Dropping something off meself. I can grab something; one less trip for you to make,” he says happily. 

And Harry thinks if he denies help again he’ll just get himself more time out here with this omega and he really doesn’t think he can handle much more one-on-one with his scent. Delicious fucking scent, he thinks and closes his eyes briefly. 

“Yeah, okay, thank you. If you want you can take that basket.” He points to a small wicker basket filled with old wallets and belts and other accessories that his fraternity brothers threw in last minute. 

The boy scoffs and maneuvers his way around Harry — who takes a significant step back to keep a meter and a half of space between them— to grab another of the boxes filled with books. 

“That’s heavy,” Harry says, unnecessarily. 

The boy scoffs again and pulls the box out of the trunk with ease, gives Harry a pointed look and then a smirk before starting in the direction of the back door. 

Every instinct in Harry’s body is telling him to take the box from the omega, make sure he’s not hurt, to take care of him. And honestly, what is this, 1950? Harry huffs out a breath through his nose, closes his eyes and shakes his head fiercely in the hopes that it’ll clear his head enough to stop thinking like such a fucking arsehole. 

When Harry finally makes it inside, the box is on the counter in between Liam and Zayn. The omega isn’t in sight and Harry breathes a sigh of relief, but then Liam looks over at him desperately. Zayn is back to sketching, like Liam’s not even there. 

“Alright?” Harry asks. He puts his box down next to the other one, and then looks back and forth across the counter at the two men beside him. 

Zayn looks up at Harry and says, “Ah. Do you know your fraternity’s philanthropy code?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s ASP76.”

Zayn nods. He puts down his sketchpad, reaches across the box between him and Liam to grab the form, and writes it down. Harry furrows his brows at Liam. 

“I forgot,” Liam says, as an explanation. 

Zayn finishes writing it in and slides the form back across the counter, but in front of Harry this time, before picking up his sketchpad again. 

“It’s the fraternity initials and our chapter number, Liam.”

Liam just shrugs helplessly and flounders a bit. Harry thinks he sees Zayn smirk a little before getting back to his sketch. “Right, well, must be because you’ve been planning too many events for us, obviously,” he says to Liam, trying not to say it through gritted teeth. Then he turns to look at Zayn, who only peaks up halfway through the sentence, “He’s the campus involvement and social events coordinator for Alpha Sig.”

“Huh,” Zayn says, polite but not all that interested. 

Harry presses onward. “Yeah, so that means he plans most of our parties and is in charge of taking care of our Pledges.”

“Yep,” Liam says, seemingly trying to take a hold of this conversation again. “I’m basically the ringmaster of fun. That’s, uh, that’s what they call me.” 

Zayn’s eyebrows pop up and his head follows to make eye contact with Liam. His lips lift at the corners. “Do they,” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. 

Liam pulls his lips into a thin line, blushes a deep shade of pink and turns to walk out through the back door. Harry smiles a sort of half apologetic, half frustrated smile at Zayn and follows Liam out. 

“Ringmaster of fun?” Harry asks. 

“I know, I know, please don’t.This was a dumb idea, I know, I get it,” Liam says. He pulls two boxes out of the back and gets ready to heave them up. Harry stops him. 

“Whoa, no, Li, come on,” Harry says. “It got a little… awkward, sure, but it doesn’t mean you can’t salvage it.”

“He thinks I’m dumb.”

“I mean, you’re both in Basic Maths, I don’t know if he was ever going to believe you were Einstein.” Liam is not smiling like Harry hoped he would be. “Okay sorry, bad joke. You’re not dumb, you just have a crush and that makes people a little,” he makes a gesture with his hand around the side of his head, “like that, sometimes, you know?”

“But he doesn’t know I have a crush.”

“Well, then, you’ll just have to tell him.” 

Liam’s blush, which was fading back into his normal skin tone, roars to life again. “I can’t do that, not when he thinks I’m dumb.” And it seems that’s the end of that discussion because he hauls off two of the heaviest boxes at once and into the shop. 

Harry sighs and grabs three garbage bags full of clothes and follows behind him. He makes it through the door just in time to see Zayn giving Liam an appreciative once-over as he sets the boxes down. 

They finish unloading the SUV seven minutes later. Whey they do, Liam heads straight back out —Harry is sure it’s to go sulk in the car— and Harry checks in with Zayn. It looks like he’s already sorting through the books and organizing them into what seems like a shop-specific system. 

“Is there anything else you need from us that you can think of?” Harry asks. 

Zayn looks up and nods. “Yeah, actually. If I could get both of your names, just in case anyone from the Greek Life Foundation asks who organized this drop.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Harry Styles and Liam Payne.” 

“And the phone number of the person that organized this. In case anyone has any follow up questions.”

Harry nods. “Of course, I can write my number down on the form, if that’s easier.”

“Oh, you did this?” he asks, a little surprised. Zayn looks around his feet at all the bags and boxes and then his eyes flicker to the back door. Where Liam disappeared a few moments ago. 

“Right, no, of course I meant Liam’s number! I can write Liam’s number down on the form. If that works.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Zayn goes back to sorting the books, but Harry catches him looking over at the paper as he writes. Harry does his best to hold back his smile. 

“Well, thank you very much for letting us donate here. I know it’s something Liam’s been wanting to do for ages. He’s really big into helping local businesses. Especially cool places like this, he’s said.”

“As the ringmaster of fun, I would hope so.”

Harry nods. “Take care.” 

And because apparently he can’t help himself, he does a final scan of the shop before walking out. He takes a deep breath in, but there aren’t any traces of the citrus sun-kissed boy from earlier. He’s grateful, of course, because who knows how his body would have reacted to him again. Who knows. 


	2. Chapter 2

Louis wouldn’t say the Omega Learning Community is his life, but he sure does spend an inordinate amount of time working with them for it to be considered just an extracurricular. 

They didn’t have all the positions like a traditional Greek Life (“Because we’re not Greek Life,” Jesy, President, had explained to him when he first joined, “we’re more than that.”). The OLC was run more like a campus club (“But we’re not just a club,” Leigh-Anne, Vice President, said, “we’re a family.”) with lots of spirited debates and a healthy foundation of democracy. 

Social functions, philanthropy and university engagements were all on the list of things the association did (“We’re a staple on campus,” Perrie, Secretary, said, “omega students know they can come to us and trust that we do what’s best for everyone.”) and they were heavily involved with Alpha-Beta-Omega status discussions (“It’s not just our issues vs. their issues,” Jade, Student Involvement Coordinator, said, “because any issue one of us faces is perceived a certain way, which impacts us all.”). 

All-in-all it seems very Greek to Louis, but since male omegas still aren’t allowed in fraternities or sororities at his uni, he wasn’t about to complain at getting to play part in that siblinghood, no matter what form it comes in. 

But since he spends nearly all his time in his lectures or with the OLC (which sadly does not pay him to come up with ideas like Polaroid scavenger hunts, monster cupcake decorating and their upcoming Casino Night towards the end of the semester), Louis is dead broke and needs a job ASAP. 

For the last three years, Louis had been working at the library, but since he’d switched his degree from Library Science to a dual focus English Lit and French Language, his supervisor had said the position needed to go to “someone with that degree” and he should “try to look for something in his field” and “Louis, stop using air quotes I don’t want to be doing this but it’s university policy”.

The next obvious choice was working with Zayn at Second Chances, of course. There, he could have studied in between customer purchases and stocking the racks and shelves with donations. That had the added bonus of hanging out with his best mate since childhood a few days a week. Considering Zayn only had so much bandwidth for human interaction in general, it was the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone. 

Unfortunately, even with Louis begging and Zayn putting in a good word, that option was chucked in the bin since the thrift shop wasn’t hiring. 

He’s been to nearly all of his professors already about possible TA positions, which he’s qualified for since he’s a fourth year, but most professors only want to hire third years since they can usually get at least three terms of work out of them. 

So now, he’s taken to posting on the online bulletin boards as a tutor and just praying that some stupid, rich kids (prefferably non-annoying ones) call him up for help. 

One month into the semester and he’s not really had all that much luck, until his Romanticism and Victorian Literature professor (after Louis asks for the fifth time if he needs a TA) tells him that he might be able to get a position if he switches to the Monday-Wednesday-Friday course with the other Rom-Vic professor, who only brings on TAs that are in another of her courses. 

He hates the idea of switching this far into the term and it means going from lectures twice-a-week to three times a week. And he really likes Mr. Lavine (has had him for two other courses during his time at uni) and doesn’t know a thing about Dr. Schwartz (who is said to be more tightly wound than the bun on her head). 

Still. 

Still, it’s the possibility of a job, and it is the same course and Louis is getting a bit desperate since he accidentally blew through basically the rest of his savings without realizing it. 

So he says yes, he’ll switch courses in the hopes of a job, if Dr. Schwartz is okay with it, and it seems she is, so it’s set and he starts with the new course on Monday. 

Louis is naturally engaging and (he’s found) quite likable, so he’s not nervous for the switch. Except that he kind of is, because he doesn’t know what people are like in this new group and what if they are absolutely belligerent alphas who heckle him as soon as he walks into the room? What if it’s dead-silent and he’s forced to carry all of the discussions himself? What if everyone is smarter than him and he doesn’t get chosen for a TA position anyway? 

Louis thinks himself into a frenzy until he’s good and worked up and calls Niall in a fit of desperation, asking if he has the crumbs of a brownie or half a hit left on a blunt or literally anything to help him take the edge off. Niall (who’s a great friend, always carefree and actually quite lovely when it comes to Louis and all his feelings) lets out a laugh, like Louis is joking, and invites himself over to smoke up and watch Vine compilations. 

Not only does Niall bring a couple of blunts, but also a few gummies (one green, one white and one orange, in case Louis suddenly forgets that he’s Irish or something) that he deposits in a cup on Louis’ desk (“For when you’re feeling like you might have another freakout. Remember, only a third at a time, they’re potent”) and a supreme pizza with extra cheese.

They sit side-by-side on Louis’ bed in his dorm room and share a blunt, pulling up the stupidest Vines they can think of on their phones. As if they haven’t seen every single one half a dozen times. 

“Getting that job at Paulie’s was the best decision you ever made,” Louis says, shoving another slice in his face, moaning slightly. Louis can’t think of anything he likes better than cheese. Except maybe Niall, who has an arm thrown around his shoulders casually as he eats his own slice. 

“Is it the connection to pot or the free pizza?”

“It’s actually how you smell of charred bread and a grease fire. You know nothing turns me on more.”

Laughing loudly at that, Niall plants a sloppy kiss on the side of Louis’ face. “I’m just honored your picky nose can smell me at all.”

Louis relaxes more into the touch and the feeling of love and friendship. It’s times like these he wishes he liked Niall even a little as more than as a friend. He’s tried imagining entwining their fingers or looking up coquettishly through his lashes, things he’s done when flirting in the past, but he doesn’t even get half a step into those thoughts before feeling like he’s going to hurl. 

Niall doesn’t want it either, thank god. Always going on and on about how he’s thankful that Louis doesn’t go for betas or they’d be in trouble because he likes Louis too much to date him. He also says Louis is too needy for him, but he’s never not there when Louis is stressing or needs a bit of a cuddle to help avoid touch deprivation. Louis thinks Niall is just as needy, sometimes, but just doesn’t know how to ask for it. 

Niall sparks the second blunt and they each take a hit. 

“You all set for Monday then?” 

Louis grabs another slice from the box in front of them and cuddles further into Niall’s hold as he searches for the dumbest video he can find. Nothing’s funnier when you’re high than people being ridiculously stupidly dumb. 

“Yeah, think so. I’m actually ahead on assignments so Monday should be a nice way to ease into it.”

“I think I know one or two people in that lecture, actually, so let me know if you want me to introduce you to a study-buddy.” 

Niall passes the joint back so Louis can take another hit. He holds the smoke in a little longer this time to really feel it in his lungs. Maybe if he holds it in long enough he it’ll seep out through his skin and hover around him so he’s nothing more than a cloud. A not particularly great smelling cloud. 

Louis exhales. “Neil, please don’t introduce me to anyone that knows you, I want to actually succeed in this course.” 

“Listen, it’s well known that Lit majors don’t know how to have fun—”

“Ah, fuck off,” Louis interrupts. 

“—and that’s why drama students take those courses, to liven them up a bit.” 

“Yeah, because that’s definitely an experience I've had every time. Actors are so fun and courteous when they ramble on for twenty minutes about how a classic piece of literature doesn’t have the same depth as a Jake Gyllenhaal monologue.” 

Niall thinks on that for a moment before shrugging. “Sure doesn’t do emotion the same way.” 

“Niall—”

“And he’s well fit, you have to admit that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of saying otherwise.”

“At least there’s that yous can agree on then.”

Louis huffs a laugh takes another small hit and finishes off his slice. Niall finishes off the joint and they watch more videos before putting on Brokeback Mountain so Louis can mourn over Heath Ledger yet again and Niall can continue commenting on Jake’s hotness. 

A while later, when Niall gets up to leave, Louis retrieves the gummies Niall deposited on his desk earlier so he can hand them back, explaining that he hasn’t got the money for them. 

“Nah, mate, when you can.” 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to, if I’m honest. Not even guaranteed this TA thing and no one’s hit me up for tutoring so far.”

Niall just shrugs and toes on his boots. “Still early, I bet you’ll be bustling just before midterms, and then you'll surely need something to relax you.” He winks at him and closes Louis’ fingers back around the gummies in his outstretched palm. “Honestly, Louis, I’m not worried about it.” 

Louis just nods and drops them back on his desk. “Thanks, Nialler.” 

Niall is just about to leave when he stops. Louis doesn’t know why until he sees him bend down to pull at a plastic bag stuffed under his wardrobe. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” he says with a cheeky smile. He pulls out a size XL Rolling Stones t-shirt and holds it up. “Are you  _ seeing  _ someone?”

“No. No, no, no,” Louis says. He makes an ‘X’ with his arms in front of himself and then sort of karate chops them back out to his sides. “No.”

“So, I’ll take that as a no?” Niall is poking around in the bag up now and Louis reaches out to try and snatch it away, but Niall holds the bag up higher and turns around a bit to shield the contents away. “Mate, what is this?”

“I needed some new clothes,” Louis says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. 

“These are all like three times your size.”

“They are not!”

“Maybe not for what you usually wear but for your actual size, yes, they definitely are.” Niall pulls out a deep red blouse with a big bow at the neck of it. He looks even more questioningly at him. “Going for a new look?”

Louis winces. That’s definitely the wildest one in the bunch; it figures that Niall would use that one against him. “Maybe.”

“If you’re seeing someone Louis, I’m really happy for you, you know. I know you don’t usually date—”. 

Never date, Louis thinks. I never date. 

“—so maybe it feels weird, but you don’t have to hide it. We don’t even have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, but know that we can.”

Louis screws his eyes tight. He doesn’t really feel like explaining it, so he leaves it at “Thanks Nialler” and let’s him believe that narrative because it’s easier. 

“And,” Niall says, reaching into this wallet for something. “Since I know you don’t have any…” 

Louis narrows his eyes and glares up at Niall. “What the fuck.”

Niall’s still got that cheeky fucking face on as he slips a condom into the blue plastic cup. “You can never trust dudes to come prepared.”

“Except you of course, you fucker. You trying to fuck me?”

“Ew,” is his response. Then he shakes his head. “Just want to make sure you’ve got all your supplies for all the ways you can have fun in this room.”

Louis looks up to the ceiling, and pretends to think out loud, “I wonder how hard it would be to get them to ban betas in addition to alphas from this building.”

Niall pulls him into a rough hug. The plastic bag swings in the air and hits Louis in the center of his back. “Like something as trivial as  _ rules  _ could keep me away from my bestie.”

“Out you fucking monster!” Louis pushes Niall away and snatched the bag from his hands. He shows him out the door with one last playful push and another cheeky, suggestive smile from Niall. 

Louis then locks the door behind him and leans against it, clutching the bag to his chest. 

He doesn’t know why he did it, bought all of these clothes, only knew that he’d been walking up and down the aisles of Second Chances and was drawn to each of the fourteen pieces. When he tried to put them back, he just...couldn’t. Couldn’t bear to part with them. Not with the yellow floral Hawaiian shirt he wouldn’t be caught dead in. Not with the blue and cream colored bomber jacket that was much fancier than anything he currently owns. Not with the Kiss band t-shirt with the red-printed Hot N Hard on the back that he will certainly never wear outside of this room. 

And then he’d had to wait until Zayn went on break so he could actually buy them (because lord knows he would have asked all the questions Louis didn’t have the answers to about his clothing choices) which then meant he couldn’t get Zayn’s employee discount, so he’d spent a whopping £112.40 on the lot of them. Nearly all of his savings. And even then he couldn’t bear to part with a single piece.

So he’d shoved the whole lot of them under his wardrobe in the hopes that they would actually just disappear on their own and magically the money would be back in his account. Which proved useless as they practically jumped straight out into Niall’s arms. And now he has to either fess up or pretend he’s seeing some massive bloke with a taste for fancy clothes to explain it away. 

Louis sighs and pulls out a few of the things that he actually will wear (because he really did need new clothes and these are in good condition and some are actually his style) and puts them in his drawers. He keeps the things he couldn’t wear out in public in the bag, ready to shove them back into their hiding place before he pauses. He opens the bag again and takes out the Hot N Hard shirt, shrugging and laughing a little to himself. Might as well wear it to bed if he can’t wear it anywhere else. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s Monday morning, just shy of noon, and Harry has exactly 26 minutes to get to his next lecture, which means he has exactly 17 minutes to search up and down Second Chances for his favourite white silk, button down shirt. 

He goes through the men’s section with no luck, and then the women’s (because that shirt absolutely has a feminine air to it and despite his efforts to bridge the gap, clothes are still apparently assigned a gender) with no luck. He tries the bundle of fabrics by the door, in case it was accidentally dropped in there and in a last ditch effort he roots around in the cracks between the cushions on the sofas. 

“Alright, mate?” Harry hears behind him. 

He turns around to see Zayn, pencil on paper of his sketchpad, looking curiously at him. 

“Yeah, alright. Have you happened to seen a white silk shirt?”

“Think you might’ve dropped one off, yeah?” he says. 

Harry grimaces. “I wasn’t meant to, it accidentally got added to the pile. I’ll pay for it, that’s not an issue, it’s just my favourite.” 

Zayn looks apologetic as he says, “Unfortunately, if you don’t see it, probably means someone’s bought it already. We don’t keep anything back, it all gets put on the floor straight away.”

“Ah,” Harry says, for lack of anything else. 

“Sorry,” Zayn says, and it looks like he means it. Despite his cool demeanor the day of the drop, he seems like a genuinely sweet dude. 

“No, no. It’s my fault. I should have been paying more attention.” He shakes his head and sighs, before turning to smile at him a little. “Thanks anyway.”

Zayn throws him a little wave and Harry hustles out of the shop, and looks at his watch to see he has just barely enough time to make it to his course. 

Barely enough time turns into not enough time, when a first year crashes into him, papers go flying and he has to spend 2 minutes helping him pick up the fallen sheets, which have scattered with the wind. 

He rushes through the door, bookbag trailing a little behind him with the sheer speed he’s going, and as it slams shut. 

The room is a theater style one with seats at every step up, so he can see each and every set of eyes of the thirty students on him as it does. He looks to his left and sees the professor with another student at the front of the room also staring. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs and rushes to take the first seat he can find, right in front of the pair.

It turns out to be an awful mistake. That’s not just any studentstanding in front, but the omega boy from the thrift shop the other day. He’s wearing blue jeans and a soft-looking olive green t-shirt, fraying a little at the edges, which he doesn’t help by playing with the loose threads of it as he stands there. Harry has the urge to grab his hands and intertwine their fingers to get him to stop. He shakes his head in hopes of shaking the thought away. 

The omega clears his throat and forces a smile, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Yeah, right, so like I was saying, I’m Louis, I’ve just transferred in from Mr. Lavine’s course and I’m ready to dive in with you all.” He pauses to smile a little ruefully before it beams back to full brightness. Even forced brightness is gorgeous on him. 

He continues, “I, uh, also know I’m new to this particular lecture, but I’m an English Lit major, and I’ve taken a Romantic Era lit course before, so if anyone needs help, I’m also a tutor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson,” Dr. Schwartz says without even a hint of a smile, per usual. 

The boy —Louis— nods and takes his seat directly behind Harry. Harry is suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him, and he can’t even look, to see what the omega is thinking, or looking at, or doing with his hands now that he’s seated. Is he itching to get them on Harry like Harry is itching to get hands on him?

_ What is wrong with me? _ Harry thinks. He’s never had urges like this before. He’s a good person and a good alpha and has never so intently wanted to bend someone over a desk in front of dozens of people. He’d look so good like that, shirt shucked up halfway up his back, palms pressed into the wood, trying to look back at Harry, but eyes closing from how overwhelmed he’d be. Moaning —just practically sobbing from all Harry would do to him—

“Mr. Styles,” Dr. Schwartz interrupts his daydreaming. He’s a little put out by the suddenness, but mostly very thankful. He’s in public. It’s an omega he doesn’t know. He should absolutely not be having these thoughts. 

“Hm?” Harry hums.

She’s standing in front of him so he has to tilt his neck to look up at her. Unfortunately, since she’s a beta, she doesn’t give off a powerful enough scent to overtake the one that’s got his attention. “It’s your turn to pick a book.”

Everything feels slower, like he’s trying to walk underwater. He can’t concentrate. Harry just blinks up at her. “A book?”

“Yes. The assignment from Friday was to pick a book to analyze throughout the second half of the term based on the themes of the course. It’s what you’ll complete your final paper on.” She looks down at him critically, like he might be the dumbest student she’s ever had. “Did you select a book?”

Right, the book. Fuck what book did he pick. He’d definitely picked one; he’d spent two hours doing research on Saturday to make sure he could apply the correct themes across the course. But now...nothing. He couldn’t think of a damn thing. What had already been chosen? He wasn’t paying attention, too busy thinking about the omega’s trembling thighs as Harry licks his way up them to get to his sweet...  _ fuck— _

He can feel himself start to thicken in his pants and there is absolutely no way he can discreetly adjust himself right now. Not with Dr. Schwartz right in front of him, not with thirty pairs of eyes on him, not when adjusting will make him want to touch more because it feels like the omega’s scent is getting  _ more _ , like it’s a sound getting louder or a light getting brighter. 

It’s been too long since he answered and he can’t think.  _ Anything _ , he thinks.  _ Just any title, just say literally any title. _

And then he hears a muttered,  _ Jane Eyre  _ from behind him. He hopes that suggestion is for him and with as much confidence as he can muster, he says, “Jane Eyre.” 

Dr. Schwartz nods once. “Not the most creative choice, Mr. Styles, but it is indeed on the list.” 

She writes it down in her little notebook and asks the person next to him, who chooses one of the lesser known Jane Austen novels, and they continue that way until the rest of his row has finished giving their choices. He lets out a relieved sigh and breathes out a quiet thank you. He decides to mouth breath for the time they have left, even when the girl next to him shoots him a scowl because of how loud it is. 

When Dr. Schwartz dismisses them, Harry is the first one to shoot up out of his seat and hurry out the door as quickly as he can without actually running. He rushes to his SUV and goes a touch above the speed limit to get back to his house in record time. 

He gets to his room, closes and locks the door and spares a thought of how grateful it is he has his own room and doesn’t have to have a quiet wank in the shower like he did his first couple of years. 

Normally, Harry likes to take a bit of time, get himself slowly worked up so it lasts. But this time, he can’t. He doesn’t bother to take his jeans or pants off, just unbuttons and pulls his cock out, setting a rhythm before he even reaches his bed. 

He gets on his knees and holds himself up with his left forearm as he works himself over. He bites his lip and thinks of the omega’s delicate looking hands playing at the edge of his shirt, imagining what they would look like on Harry’s dick. Thinks about them pulling at Harry’s hair. Wonders what it would be like to pin them down above his head on his bed as he rams into him over and over again. Nipping at his jaw and his neck, maybe a little harshly at the juncture of his shoulder, maybe enough to break the skin…

And  _ jesus,  _ he slows his hand at that because he’s ready to pop a knot over mating an omega he hasn’t said ten words to! His rut isn’t scheduled for another week, but maybe his brain is already headed into that headspace. 

He turns his attention back to his cock, but pushes away thoughts of his teeth anywhere near the neck and shoulders. He holds the base of himself tightly as he comes to the image of the omega clutching at his back and whimpering out a  _ so so good, Harry _ . He pops a knot in his hand and bites his pillow hard to keep himself from crying out. 

There, he thinks. It should be out of his system now. 

***

Harry’s wrong about that, and goes into rut unexpectedly sometime between Monday night and Tuesday morning. He misses his lectures for the rest of the week and Liam —bless him— sends emails to all of his professors to let them know he won’t be in. His professors —bless them as well, Harry thinks begrudgingly— send along the coursework he misses. Once he starts to come out of his rut, he begins to work on it in between his last few wanks. 

By Sunday night he’s even starting  _ Jane Eyre _ . It’s early-October, heavy chill in the air, so curling up with a spooky Victorian story feels on theme, so he declines going to the Beta Gama mixer. It’s too soon from his rut anyway, he thinks. No sense in chancing any omegas being there and getting a little… well a little  _ much _ . 

Before the last group of his brothers head over, Liam stops by to check in on him. 

“Hey H,” he says. Harry looks up and waggles his fingers at him, smiling a little. “How’re you feeling?”

“Yeah, good. Just think I need another night in. To be safe.”

Liam nods, because he understands. Understands what it’s like to have alpha urges you’re not totally in control of or proud of. He understands that sometimes being on your own in the only way to make sure you stay totally in check. 

“Have loads of fun though, and take a jello shot for me,” Harry says.

“I will. I’ll try to grab one of the blue ones you like so much.”

“Mm,” Harry hums happily, and snuggles down a little further into his blankets. “Nothing better than the blue raspberry.”

Liam pauses at the door. 

“Something else, Li?”

“Uh… no.”

Harry smirks and pulls Jane Eyre to his chest, holding the pages open that way. “Are you worried Zayn might be there?” he asks, slightly teasing tone. 

Liam huffs, like Harry is crazy for even suggesting it. 

“Ah, c’mon mate. A party’s a great time to get to know him. Got a few drinks to take the edge off, he’s probably not going to have his giant sketchpad with him, you’ll be surrounded by brothers and friends so he can see how loveable you are. Honestly it’s perfect.”

“But what do I  _ say _ ?” Liam walks further into the room and throws himself dramatically back on Harry’s bed. Harry giggles a little, and pulls his knees up to hold the book to his chest. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to him I’ve made a bloody fool of myself. Even when he called to ask if there were any more donations, I just babbled on about maybe possibly we could organize a whole one for Greek row, and I didn’t even let him speak! I just kept interrupting to say that I’d work on it and—”

“Wait, hold on. He called you?”

Liam groans and throws his arms over his head. “Yes, please listen, I don’t want to repeat the tale of my incompetency at flirting.”

“Was there anything wrong with the forms? Or the donation?”

“No, don’t worry, all of that was fine.”

“ _ Liam _ .”

“What?”

“Liam he was calling to try and flirt with you!” Liam peaks out from his arms skeptically. “He was! Shops don’t do follow up calls, bro. He was obviously calling to talk to you again!”

Liam looks hopeful for exactly one second before a grim look of fear crosses his features. “Oh  _ no.  _ I went on and on about how good a relationship I have with the sororities on campus. Even more-so about the omega sororities. Harry, he’s going to think I’m one of those close-minded people who thinks alphas should only be with omegas! Or that I’m straight!”

Harry does his best to stifle a laugh. “Better go set the record straight then, yeah? Or, er, not straight, as it were.”

Liam shoots him an unimpressed look, but all Harry does is shrug. So Liam stands and exits the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Knock ‘em dead, Li!” Harry shouts as he hears it click closed. Then he stretches his legs out again and returns to his pages, ready for Jane to meet Mr. Rochester. 

***

Monday morning comes around much too quickly, as it always does. Harry gets ready for his lectures, but not especially for one over the others. Of course not. Because Rom-Vic will go smoothly today, as it had every other lecture before last week. And the only reason last week was out of sorts anyway was because of his rut. So...yeah. 

Statistics 201 is bearable, but only just and only because the professor makes lots of puns that everyone else hates but Harry loves. In Art History —his very favourite course this term— they continue their discussions of sculptures and the difference between marble and bronze in the technique. He eats lunch in the garden off of the library and steals himself for Rom-Vic, deciding that he’ll get there early to sit all the way in the back of the room to avoid having a repeat of last week, and hopefully be very far away from the new omega. 

As he approaches the door to his lecture hall, he notices that it’s cracked and he hears voices coming from inside. It sounds serious, so he leans against the wall to the right of it and waits. 

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Dr. Schwartz says, voice stern. Harry can’t help but have his ears perk up at that, that she’s talking to the new omega. He feels a flush start to creep up his neck. He wills himself to stop his thoughts from going where they’re headed, from where they were just about this time last week. 

“Dr. Schwartz,” he says, voice bright. “I know it’s unorthodox for a TA to start in the middle of the term, since you haven’t got anyone helping you so far, and I know you have four Literature courses, I thought now —before midterms— would be a good time to get into the groove of it.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” she starts again. 

“And! Since I switched I only have one lecture in my Tuesday-Thursday circuit, which means I’ll be able to attend both lectures you have those days, if necessary, and can administer exams.”

Dr. Schwartz sighs, loudly. 

“And! I know I can’t be a TA for this course, but I am getting on with everyone quite well, you said so yourself just now. I’d be more than happy to set up study sessions for the group, let you sit in on them, so you can see how serious I take this.”

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“I’ll let you talk now, I promise,” Louis says, a bit of laughter in his voice, but it sounds a bit forced. A bit tense. 

“Can I be candid with you, Mr. Tomlinson?”

“Of course, Dr. Schwartz.” 

Another quiet beat, and then Dr. Schwartz asks, “When is your heat due?”. 

Harry can feel his eyes get very big and his eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline. Can she ask that? That’s quite rude, isn’t it?

Louis either doesn’t think so or doesn’t mind, because he answers confidently, “Not until weeks after the term ends.”

“And you’re certain?”

“I am. I’m on the same stabilizers I’ve been on since I was fourteen and I’ve never been off of my schedule.”

Another pause. “To be quite frank, Mr. Tomlinson, I very rarely have TAs at all and even more rarely ones that are omega or alpha. It’s not because those genders are not capable, but because there are often too many extenuating circumstances during this transitional period of your lives and nearly anything can set off a heat or rut. Just last week, I was emailed about one of my students who went into rut unexpectedly and had to take several days off.” 

Harry blushes, feeling called out, even though he’s pretty sure there is no way Louis could know she meant him. 

There is a noise of protest and then silence. Harry imagines Louis trying to speak before Dr. Schwartz holding her hand up, fingers stiff, the way she often did when his group got too rowdy that first week of term. 

“It is not meant as a judgement. In fact, I quite envy the passion often affiliated with those two genders. It makes for much better writing.” There is a lightness in her voice that Harry hasn’t heard before. Is it possible Dr. Schwartz is actually smiling? “But what I need from my TAs is consistency.”

“Yes, Dr. Schwartz.” Louis sounds a little defeated. 

“You come very highly recommended by Mr. Lavine,” Dr. Schwartz continues, “And your first essay was concise but earnest, the same voice I love to see from my students.” Harry thinks he hears tapping against wood —maybe a pen against a desk— before another sigh. “There will be no need for study groups, or at least, please do not include me on them. You’re hired, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis exhales some sort of joyful noise that creates tingles on the back of Harry’s neck. 

“Not so fast, please. I don’t like to have my upper levels reviewed by someone who’s editing voice I am not familiar with, so this position will only be for Introduction to Literature with the first and second years.”

“Oh, okay, yes that’s fine of course.”

“Which means I will only need you for eight hours a week, to review their papers.”

“Oh...I was really hoping for more. I’ll put in the work, I sw—”

“This will jump to twelve hours a week during midterms and fifteen during finals. Unfortunately, there are university standards, and I’m already stretching them because I know how intensive those papers can be to review.”

“Right, of course.”

“Is this still a position you’re interested in?” Dr. Schwartz asks, her voice more serious than Harry has ever heard it. 

A very brief moment of quiet, and then Louis’ determined voice says, “Yes, of course, Doctor.”

“Wonderful. Please stop by my office after so we can fill out the paperwork. And, Mr. Tomlinson? Great work on this essay.” 

There’s a shuffle of papers. 

“Thank you, Dr. Schwartz.”

“Very nice work.”

And that’s it. 

So Louis is going to be a TA for Dr. Schwartz. It does seem like she likes him, but even still, Harry can’t imagine why someone would want to be a teacher’s assistant to someone as harsh as her. He’s guaranteed to be working more than those hours and not get any additional pay. He’d be better off working somewhere like the library, Harry thinks. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s been standing outside the door to the lecture hall for a very long time until he notices two omega girls standing behind him, almost like they’re in a queue to get in to the room. 

Clearing his throat, Harry removes his bookbag from his shoulders and kneels on the ground. “Sorry,” he says. “You can, uh, I just… forgot...about something.” He ducks his head down and pretends to be searching for something inside the bag. He catches the disbelieving look one throws the other before they make their way into the room. 

It’s nearly time for the lecture now, so students arrive more steadily, and Harry steels himself before making his way into the room. Dr. Schwartz is sitting cross-legged at her desk with papers stacked neatly in four piles in front of her. Behind her, there’s a white board that has GRAB YOUR PAPER written on it in red ink. 

As students filter in, they search for their own assignments and display a range of emotions as they see their marks on it. As Harry approaches he tries to look confident. He emailed his paper early Saturday morning, so he hopes it’s here as well. 

“Feeling better, Mr. Styles?” Dr. Schwartz asks. 

Harry blushes. “Much, thank you.”

“Do you have another lecture after this one?”

“Erm, no.”

“Your paper is not here, unfortunately. I wanted to speak with you about it. Can you meet with me directly after this in my office? I have to onboard a TA but I don’t want to delay getting you your essay.”

“Uh…” Harry wavers. He’s not sure if being next to Louis for more than ten seconds is a good idea, but he can’t really think of a good excuse. “Yeah, sure.”

She nods. “Great.”

Harry makes his way towards the back of the room. He tries not to look, but he can’t help it when his eyes flash to the left as he walks up a few steps, pulled in like a magnet. And — and  _ oh god.  _

There, in all his sunshine-embodied glory, is Louis Tomlinson, omega boy that Harry wanked himself raw to over the last week,  _ wearing his shirt _ . 

Harry knows it’s his, one of the ones he donated a few weeks ago. It’s a light yellow, short sleeved button down. It’s in excellent condition because he only wore it half a dozen times—and Harry takes very good care of his clothes, anyway, thank you very much— but he can see the middle button, which is a slightly different shade than the rest of the buttons, from where Harry had to replace it. 

The shade on his skin tone makes Louis look impossibly tanner. And more delectable. But it’s at least three sizes too big for his body, maybe more —Harry isn’t totally sure from the way Louis is sitting— and it makes him look tiny. Like Harry could toss Louis over his shoulder and run him out of here, no problem. Christ, he looks beautiful. 

All of a sudden, his plans to sit as far away from him seem absolutely ludicrous, and kind of impossible, given the tug Harry feels towards him. He moves up one more row and makes his way down a few seats so he has a perfect, diagonal vantage point to gaze upon Louis during the lecture. In his shirt. Looking so small and dainty, swallowed up by the fabric surrounding his body. 

For fifty minutes, Harry pretends to be listening to Dr. Schwartz give her lecture on Utilitarianism as a plot device as he watches Louis take notes. He shifts between typing on his laptop in front of him, and writing things down with a pen in a notebook. 

Louis scratches his upper arm, which causes the shirt to scrunch up a bit. Louis turns his head from side to side to crack his neck and the collar shifts. Louis leans forward to adjust the brightness of his laptop screen and Harry can see the way the material pools at the bottom of his spine. 

Harry can tell that even without the shirt, Louis would have been distracting to him. His face is so expressive and the lilt in his voice when he makes comments or answers questions is mesmerizing and he smells  _ ungh  _ so good. But with the shirt… it’s hard to tear his attention away long enough to notice all the other things about Louis. 

He looks thoughtful as he takes notes. Nods along to some parts and scrunches his nose up at others. Harry isn’t listening, so he doesn’t know for sure, but he assumes it’s Louis agreeing and disagreeing with Dr. Schwartz’ points. A few times Louis shifts, like he’s a bit uncomfortable, and Harry can’t help but wonder if he’s even a little bit as affected as he is himself.

Harry waffles between wanting to fuck him with the shirt on and with it off. He imagines the buttons undone and the edges of the shirt fluttering as he nails him against a wall, Louis’ legs wrapped around his hips and those delicate hands tugging at his hair. 

He thinks about ripping the shirt open so the buttons come flying off, tearing every piece of clothing off of him until everything’s unusable, because even without having seen Louis naked, he has a feeling that’s how he’d prefer him. Naked and panting and moaning and  _ yeah just like that, Harry, right there, oh god right there, yes yes yes, you fill me up so well, make me feel so good, don’t stop please don’t stop, want you to knot me, yeah knot me al— _

And then Harry is startled out of his dirty daydream as Louis stands from his seat and shuts his laptop. The lecture’s ended. Harry straightens himself and puts his own laptop away, very aware he didn’t take a single note the entire time. 

The room starts to empty out, and both Louis and Harry take their time packing up. When the last person is walking out of the room, Louis turns over his right shoulder to give Harry a confused sort of smile. Before Harry can respond with a smile of his own, Louis is turning back around. Harry can’t help but frown a bit at that. How’s he supposed to flirt with him if he’s not looking?

But… yeah, maybe Harry  _ shouldn’t  _ be flirting with him, anyhow. His attraction to Louis is clearly more intense — _ animalistic _ , his brain supplies— than anything he’s experienced before. Maybe that isn’t a good sign. 

They both make their way down the steps as Dr. Schwartz packs up, and Louis gives Harry a somewhat puzzled look. Probably wondering why he’s still standing there. But Dr. Schwartz saves him from having to explain that he’s  _ meant  _ to be there by telling them to follow her. 

Once they reach the English department office, she sets Louis up with some forms at the front desk, and tells Harry to follow her into her own little office, closing the door only about halfway. Louis’ scent is dulled from the distance, but only just. He wishes she would have shut the door. Or kept it all the way open. Harry can’t really decide which he’d prefer. 

“Mr. Styles, here is your paper.”

She hands it to him, and his jaw drops at the 63% circled mockingly in red at the top of the it. He looks up at her, mouth still open in shock. 

She just nods at him, and then at the paper. “Do you know why you got that Mark, Mr. Styles?”

“I—” Harry looks down at the paper in his hands and furrows his eyebrows as he starts to flip through it. There are red marks up and down the columns and through the paragraphs. “I don’t—” 

He doesn’t understand. He might have been slightly out of it when he was writing it Friday night, sure, but he did his research and proofread it and he just doesn’t understand...he’s never gotten a mark this low before. 

“You got that mark because you completely disregarded the themes of the story and provided half-hearted evidence to back your argument, at best. I’ve seen better from you at the beginning of the term, and since you’ve set that bar for yourself, I will not accept anything less.”

“Now,” she continues. “I know you weren’t  _ feeling well _ last week.” Harry blushes a dark pink at her pointed look. “But my standards are very high and I don’t allow for that excuse, as I’m sure you well know from past students’ comments and murmurs around campus. Yes, I am aware of my reputation, Mr. Styles, but I also know that students in my lectures learn better than anyone else in this university. Which is why this grade will stand. Do better next time, Mr. Styles.”

She nods at him, stern look on her face, and picks up a pen to jot something down on a post-it note. Harry assumes that’s her dismissal of him, so he shoves the paper in his bag, pulls the straps onto his shoulders and sulks out of the office. 

Louis makes sympathetic eye-contact with him as he passes, confirming that he’d heard their conversation. He catches Louis’ eyes drop down to his shoes and raise his eyebrows in surprise. Harry looks down at his own shoes, wondering if he’s stepped in something, but doesn’t see anything off. When he looks up again, Louis is disappearing into Dr. Schwartz’s office. 

Harry sighs and makes his way out. 

Just one bad paper, he tries to console himself. And it’s not like he needs to do spectacularly in this course. He’ll be okay if he just passes. Obviously there’s the pride in his scores and the requirement for his fraternity, but one course won’t make him drop that much. Besides, it was extenuating circumstances, his rut, so that won’t get in the way anymore. So...it won’t happen again, he decides. He huffs out another heavy sigh. 

He’s got his keys out and is just at his car when he hears, “Styles!” from behind him. “Hey, Styles, wait up!”

Turning, he sees Louis jogging towards him. The wind from the movement causes the excess material of the shirt to flow behind him, showing off his curves through the material. Harry grips the straps of his bookbag tighter so he doesn’t do something stupid, like pull him in to bury his nose in Louis’ neck. 

“Uh…” Harry starts. Louis just smiles at him a little, and it causes his heart to beat faster in his chest. 

“Hey so, sorry for eavesdropping, but I heard Schwartz kind of laying into you a bit back there,” Louis says. 

Harry doesn’t know if he would put it quite that way, but he’s not sure if that’s because it wasn’t all that bad or because he doesn’t want to look weak in front of a potential mate. 

“And I was just going to offer some tutoring, if you’d like,” he says. He smiles a little wider and Harry’s heart feels like it stops for a moment. 

“Uh…” he says. 

And then he catches it, Louis’ scent taking over him like he’s been doused in it. But it’s different, even better somehow. Why is it better? It takes a few moments, his eyes flickering down to the yellow shirt, for Harry’s cheeks to turn pink as he thinks it’s both of them mixed  _ together.  _

He’d washed all of his clothes before donating them, of course, but they were in his car for the drive, and in his closet with all of his other shirts, in his room constantly absorbing his own scent. 

“I don’t charge much,” Louis continues. His eyes flicker to the SUV behind Harry and smiles a little wider. “Just twenty pounds an hour. I figure we could meet an hour after the lecture each day, so it’d be three hours a week. What do you say?”

“Uh…” he says again. He tries to discreetly take another sniff to confirm his theory, but it mostly just causes heat to pool at the bottom of his abdomen. He licks his lips because they suddenly feel dry, and notices Louis’ eyes flicker down to them, and then back up to Harry’s eyes with a questioning look. Harry clears his throat. “What would, uh, what would tutoring entail?” he asks. 

Louis shrugs and makes a carefree little noise, like it wouldn’t be difficult at all. “Not much, you know, just reviewing papers, going over the themes we talked about in the course, maybe helping you start your essays to get the groove of it. I could also review and give notes for the bigger papers, like the midterm coming up. What’d’ya say?”

He flips his fringe out of his eyes and cocks his head to the side like a small, hopeful question. Those blue eyes, goddamn, just looking straight at Harry. He doesn’t even really register it when he says, “Yes.” 

“Great!” Louis says, eyes bright.

“Right now?” Harry asks, eyes unconsciously shifting down to where Louis is tugging at the collar of the yellow shirt. 

Louis lets out a little laugh. “Sorry mate, I’ve got a meeting to get to now. But we can start on Wednesday, if that works.”

“Yeah, Wednesday, sure.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you then.” And then Louis gives a little salute with a couple of his fingers from his forehead and walks off. Harry’s body automatically turns in the direction he goes, like it wants to follow him. He stops that from happening, at least, and turns to get into the SUV. 

An hour alone with Louis after every lecture. And he hadn’t even really said more than a few words to him. How had he managed that? Harry starts the car and shakes his head, deciding not to test his luck with fate by questioning it. 


	4. Chapter 4

Louis tells Jesy that he needs to pull back from the OLC later that night at their monthly meeting. She asks if he’ll still be able to organize his portion of casino night, and when Louis confirms that he will, she seems cool about it. A little too cool for Louis’ liking, to be honest, and Jesy notices that he’s put out. She just laughs loudly at him, saying she’s just happy that he didn’t resort to signing up for one of those clinical trials advertised around campus. 

It’s something he’d considered, but those trials usually wreak havoc on omega’s hormones or put them in undesirable situations with alphas. He’s very thankful he got himself sorted with academic work of his own, instead. 

He doesn’t officially start TA-ing until Thursday, when he has his first meeting with Dr. Schwartz to tell him about the students in the course and give him the first stack of papers, but he’s starting tutoring with the Styles kid today. 

First topic on the agenda is to find out his first name. 

He’d seemed really put out by Dr. Schwartz’ comments, looking shell-shocked when he’d come out of her office. And then Louis had noticed expensive-looking Gucci loafers on his feet and it was like the universe was giving him a present. It was further confirmed when Louis saw him right next to his giant, posh-looking car. They could help each other; Louis would help Styles improve in the course, and Styles would help him by handing over cold hard cash.

Settling into his seat in the lecture hall, he realizes he never told Styles how payments would work. How do payments work, for that sort of thing? Rich boys don’t really carry cash, now, do they? He supposes he’ll have to run something through the university website. Venmo seems a bit shady, maybe, for tutoring. Gotta make it official. 

Before he can worry himself too much over it, Styles walks into the room, scanning the rows as people settle in. He seems to find what he’s looking for in Louis, more specifically down at his torso. Louis looks down at himself, at his well-worn grey t-shirt and the red flannel button down he’d gotten at the thrift shop. When he looks up again, Styles locks eyes with him and seems a little caught out, giving a little nod and heading in his direction. 

His curly hair is held away from his face by a snapback today dark blue and backwards on his head. He’s wearing jeans and a comfy-looking grey sweater, black bookbag slung casually over one shoulder, and what looks like half a dozen rings on one hand. 

He slides into the row behind Louis, like he did on Monday, and smiles even wider before he passes him. 

“Hello, Louis,” Styles says, in that very deep voice of his. It’s a nice voice. Louis hasn’t heard it much; the curly-headed fellow hasn’t really said more than a handful of words in the lectures. 

Louis just sort of nods as he passes behind him, giving a little wave of his hand. 

The lecture passes without much fuss. A beta student in the front row fumbles over her words when answering a question and then sinks down into her seat slightly when Dr. Schwartz moves on to another student to torture. Maybe Louis will offer to tutor her as well. Maybe he can even make it a study group sort of thing, so he doesn’t have to meet them separately. Things to consider. 

Dr. Schwartz dismisses them a few minutes early, and Louis starts to pack up, hoping to go after the beta girl and invite her along, but as he slings his bookbag over his shoulder, he notices Styles is standing at the end of his row, grinning a little tentatively at him.

When they make eye-contact, he asks, “Is now still a good time for tutoring?”

“Yes, of course,” he says. He looks to the door and sees the beta girl just as she turns away. He sighs and walks to the end of the row. Maybe on Friday. 

Styles makes no move to back up from where he is, so Louis rolls his eyes to himself (alpha’s always take up so much  _ space _ ) and nearly does a backbend to avoid touching him as he makes his way out of the row. 

Fuck. 

It hits him and he nearly stumbles backwards as the scent wraps around his body like it’s a physical presence.

Fuck, he thinks again, head foggy as it overtakes him. 

This is why he doesn’t stand next to alphas, or next to people in general. He knows his stabilizers have fucked with his senses for years (he’s certain that’s why he can’t stand the taste of vanilla and why his knee starts to hurt when it’s about to rain) and it means his sense of smell is dulled. From a few yards away, he’s more than fine, but this close makes him feel like he’s stuck his nose right in Styles’ neck where he’s sharpest. It just makes Louis wonder what it would be like actually getting his nose that close to that skin. 

God, he smells amazing. Like a walk in the woods; pine and fresh rain and earth. 

His omega has perked all the way up, urging him to bare his neck, drop down to his knees in submission. (Because yeah, that’s a totally fucking normal thing to do in public.)

He vaguely recognizes the feeling of a hand around his elbow. He shakes himself out of it hard and clicks in enough to notice Styles’ concerned face. Louis puts some distance between them and only has a marginally hard time slipping out of the grasp on his arm. 

“Are you okay?” Styles’ says, voice careful, like it might not be the first time he’s said it. 

“Uh,” Louis says, eloquently. He shakes his head and shuts his eyes to center himself. He takes another step backwards. “Yeah, yeah, just got a bit lightheaded there for a second. 

“Do you need to go to the clinic?” Styles’ brows are furrowed and arms hovering out, like he’s ready to catch Louis if he wobbles again. Louis thinks he would become a puddle in his arms if he did that, so he takes another half step away. 

“No, no. It, uh, happens sometimes. Perfectly normal. I should be good now,” Louis says. 

Styles’ nods, but it seems like it’s more in recognition than because he believes Louis. “Okay.”

“Right yeah, so, let’s go.” Louis starts walking, moving fast as he makes his way out of the building. The more space he puts between them, the clearer his head gets. “I figured we’d head to the library, since there’ll be reference books if we need them.”

“That works for me.”

Styles and his stupid long legs have no trouble keeping up with Louis. He’s not half an arms length away, and Louis picks up his speed again. 

They make it to the library in record time, with Louis nearly panting at his loss of breath. He just points half-heartedly at some tables in back as an indication for him to go and sit. “I’m just gonna,” he says, waving a hand over his shoulder at the help desk. What he’s ‘just gonna’ do, he doesn’t know, but he needs a minute to himself. 

Styles’ wavers like he doesn’t want to leave Louis. Pathetic Louis who’s just about ready to drop to his knees and present for this random alpha in his course just because he got too close and smelled him.

(Louis tells himself to get a fucking grip, he doesn’t even know this boy, this is just his body’s reaction to smelling an alpha so close after having gone a long time without. A long time, Louis realizes.)

He hovers by the central desk for a few moments, shaking himself out of it and pretending to look over some flyers spread out there. Unfortunately, no one is currently manning the desk.  _ Fuckers _ , Louis thinks.  _ Could’ve had me here doing it, like I have been for the last three years. I’d have never left my post.  _

Even if it’s very untrue, Louis lets himself have the thought to make him feel better. If he still had his library job, he wouldn’t have been in Styles’ presence to smell him in the first place. 

Louis resolutely ignores the pang his omega feels at that, turns around and makes his way over to the back table. 

Styles is watching him, back to that near killer-level stare. It’s a four person table, and he picked the one closest to the aisle, so Louis sets his bookback on the chair across from him and takes the seat next to the window. Styles frowns at that. 

Louis clears his throat, and busies himself by rummaging through his bag to avoid eye-contact. “Right, so, midterms are a couple of weeks away. Have you started your paper?”

He takes a full minute pulling out his laptop and a notebook, but it isn’t until Louis looks up again that Styles speaks. “Yes, I have.”

“Wonderful. Which prompt did you chose?”

He finally drags his eyes away from Louis and shuffles in his bag, taking out his own laptop and opening it. After a minute, he reads, “ _ Some of the omega poets we’ve read reinforce traditional gender stereotypes and roles, while others challenge those roles. Select two poems by omega authors, one that reinforces traditional gender roles and one that challenges them, and compare and contrast these poems _ .”

Well, Louis thinks.

“And what made you choose that one?” he asks. 

As he shrugs, curls move along the base of Styles’ neck. “I guess I wanted to examine my own biases and internalized stereotypes. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, how we view omegas in society and the challenges they face based on stereotypes they can’t control.” 

Louis feels like he might get a little slick just from those words, but grits his teeth and thinks of the wrinkly old face of William Wordsworth.

He nods and coughs into his fist to hide his heightened sense of want. (He reminds himself that Styles is probably just telling him what he wants to hear, get on his good side for tutoring. He knows his status, obviously, just trying to butter him up.)

Louis asks Styles to read the opening paragraph to get a sense of where he’s at in the argument process. The slow, deep timber of his voice as he reads the beginning is enough to make Louis dig his nails into his thighs, let alone the actual words. He’s in for a long hour. 

In the end, it’s not too bad. Louis gives some notes on the structure Styles’ has set up but all in all he’s got a good handle on it. And then when Louis quizzes him on some of the terms they’ve learned so far, he aces nearly all of them. He even does a little happy dance when he gets one right, curls swaying side to side against his neck. So many curls. 

Well, he supposes Curly doesn’t need help after all. Louis sighs inwardly before looking up at his face. Probably for the best, anyway. Don’t need to be spending so much time with someone that has the potential to make him wet every five minutes. Even this distance is a little much, now that Louis has hooked onto a thread of his scent. 

They start to wrap up and Louis starts to say it. “So it actually sounds like you’ve got a pretty good handle on everything. I’m happy to meet with you maybe once a week, but I’m not sure you even need—”

“I really like your shirt,” Curly interrupts. 

Louis looks down at himself and then back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Thanks?”

“Red’s a nice colour on you.”

Louis scoffs to try and distract from his blush. “All colours are nice colours on me.”

Curly grins at that. “I’m absolutely sure that’s true.” 

Louis laughs at that and then stands, putting his things away. “Right, so, for tutoring—”

“Right!” Curly exclaims, standing as well. “Payment.”

Louis had actually sort of forgotten that this was a work gig, too caught up in his body’s reaction to the boy in front of him. (Fuck, he hopes he can find someone else to tutor in Curly’s place.) “For sure. I’m sorry, I haven't had time to set up anything through the school’s site yet.”

Curly shakes his head, as if to say  _ don’t worry about it.  _ “No need to set something up. You said 25 quid?”

“Erm…” and then he’s holding a twenty and a fiver, offering it out to Louis.  _ Didn’t I say £20? But even £20 for an hour of him just reading his stuff? _ “Nah, mate, s’too much.”

“No, please, you’ve really helped me so far. I’m excited for our next session.” He pushes the bills into Louis’ hands, and Louis feels a zip of electricity shoot up his spine with the feel of skin-against-skin. He suppresses a shudder. “Friday, right?”

“Erm...”

“Do you live on campus? Can I walk you back to your dorm? It’s getting late.”

Louis is pretty sure it’s not even 5pm yet, but he finds himself nodding anyway. Curly beams at him. “Great! Are you in Turner Hall?” Louis just nods again as he situates his bookbag on his shoulders. “Wicked.”

They start walking out of the library, and Louis finds Curly is too close to him again. All he can smell is tree bark and freshly cut grass, just about goes cross-eyed over it. Fucking him would probably be like that one time he and his first girlfriend made-out in the conservatory on a school trip in secondary school. Except more, and better, because Louis knows he’s gay now and Curly is a boy with lips that look soft and plush and like he knows exactly what to do with them. Louis can’t suppress his shiver this time and Curly looks over at him, concerned. 

“You should button that up,” Curly says, nodding to his flannel. 

Louis nods. “Yeah, probably.” He’s not cold (rather warm, actually, flushed with heat from his dirty thoughts) but he buttons up nevertheless. When he looks back, Curly is biting his bottom lip. It makes Louis flush again, up his neck as he imagines what it’d be like to have Curly bite his lips, along his jaw, down his neck. Imagines one long, sensual lick up the side of his throat before he’d kiss Louis breathless. 

Louis clears his throat. 

“What other courses are you taking?” he asks. 

Curly looks up at him, eyes wide. He looks forward and takes a step away from Louis. Louis is grateful for it, mostly. Curly goes on in his slow, monotonous tone, saying words Louis isn’t actually listening to because he can’t focus with their scents mixing as they are. It’s so familiar and comforting, but above all it makes Louis want to jump up into Curly’s arms and start dry-humping him like crazy. 

Thankfully it’s only another two minutes before they’re at his dormitory. Louis gets his keys out and puts the right one in the clear glass door. He turns to say thanks and finds Curly is much, much closer now, practically right up on him. So close Louis has to tilt his head up to make eye-contact. So close Louis can see flecks of gold in his dark green eyes. So close all Louis can feel is body heat and all he can smell is rain-water racing down leaves. 

It really shouldn’t be so hot. Curly is only a few inches taller than him (okay, maybe more than a few, but shut up), but his shoulders are so broad and everything about him just feels  _ bigger _ . Everything about him is all-encompassing. 

Louis leans back against the door and Curly takes a half a step closer, like it’s automatic to move with him. 

It seems like he’s going to kiss Louis. It feels like he’s leaning in, parting his lips. Louis’ eyes are closed now, so he can’t see it for himself, but he feels the warmth and the want. 

Fuck, Louis hasn’t been kissed in years. Not since Trevor, and they hadn’t even really kissed up through the end because of that way Trevor acted with him. And anyway, Louis never felt this kind of want from Trevor. 

Harry’s getting closer. Like Louis’ diving into a stream in the middle of a forest. Like if he breathes he’ll inhale things he’s not meant to, like he might die if he lets it into his lungs. Surprisingly, Louis doesn’t really care. He parts his lips, sucks in all the air he can get and then…

And then there’s a vibration against the back of his head and a thumping sound. Knocking —someone is knocking on the door behind him. It startles Louis forward, pushing Curly back with his palms (that he didn’t realize had moved up to rest on his pecs) just before the door opens. 

Someone comes out, smirking at Louis. It takes a second for him to recognize that someone as Zayn. 

“Louis,” Zayn nods, eyes flashing to Curly behind him and then back again. “Headed in for the night?”

“What?” Louis asks. There’s enough distance between them now that Louis can finally think clearly. Well… clearer, anyway. (What the fuck just happened.)

He looks over at Curly, who’s staring at him intensely, all green nearly gone from his eyes, fingers twitching out to the side like he wants to grab at Louis and pull him in. 

_ (What the fuck just happened!  _ he screams interally at himself.)

“Erm,” Louis finally answers. “No, no. Curly here was just walking me back because it was getting late.”

Zayn makes a big show of pulling out his phone and showing Louis. “Did you change your bedtime to 6pm?”

Louis chuckles nervously. “Right, uh, later. Is what I meant. Anyway, goodbye Zayn.”

Zayn shoots him one last amused look and turns away.

Louis doesn’t want to look and see the look in Curly’s eyes, but he can’t just turn his back and leave without saying goodbye. Louis winces as he goes to make eye contact only to see Curly in front of him with his eyes closed, breathing deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself, which he likely is, given how blown out his eyes were a moment ago. 

“Right,” Louis says again. Instinct desperately wants him to apologize for pushing him away, but he bites his tongue. “I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

Curly’s eyes pop open. Louis can see green, again, which steadies him a bit. “Harry,” he says. 

“What?”

“My name,” he says, “it’s Harry.”

Louis just nods, unsure of where to go from there. ( _ What the fuck. _ ) “I’ll see you on Friday, Harry.”

Harry just nods. Louis turns away and finds his keys still in the door. He twists the lock open, meets Harry’s eyes over his shoulder one last time and then heads inside. 

Louis feels lucky in this moment that omegas are required to have their own rooms, even if his bank account hates it, because he doesn’t have to worry about someone barging in as he quickly works his fingers inside of himself. In no time at all, he’s dripping with slick, moaning and writhing on his bed, clutching at his hair and humping down on his digits. 

Just another 10 seconds out there and Louis’ certain he would have had lips on him. On his mouth, on his jaw, on his neck. If it’d been good, it wouldn’t have taken much longer for Louis to pull them in to his room (he most certainly would have ignored the no-alpha rule his dorm has) and then there would be someone else’s fingers inside him now. Their scents would have mixed around them and his whole room would’ve smelled of sex. Earthy, dirty, fucked-out-of-his-mind sex. He fucking misses sex. 

Louis pumps his fingers faster and faster, gives himself two tight pulls along his cock with his other hand, and comes with a soft cry of, “ _ Harry _ .”


	5. Chapter 5

Thursday is near torture for Harry. He goes to his lectures and he gets coffee from his favourite cafe and he works his shift at the campus shop but none of it makes him stop thinking of Louis. 

God, the way he gasped a little and fell back against the door, like he was so overwhelmed that gravity no longer worked for him. The way he put his hands on his chest, like he needed to be anchored that way. It makes Harry salivate just thinking about it. 

Harry almost kissed him. Almost. Fuck he wants to kiss him. Among other things. Like get Louis to read him French poetry in that heavy accent of his, and tell him everything he feels about being an omega. Like nibble along his jaw while he fingers him. Like make him recite French poetry while he fingers him. 

He’s just so beautiful and so smart and looks like he belongs in Harry’s clothes and Harry’s arms and Harry’s life. 

Harry debated walking by his dorm earlier, but he’s fairly certain it would come off kind of stalkerish, so he’s decided to live in misery until their Rom-Vic lecture on Friday. He sighs and checks the time again; only 20 more hours to go. 

He’s restocking the university stationary section when he hears a loud, familiar Irish voice talking to someone else behind him. “Come off it, I just need to get this book and then we can eat all the pizza you can stomach.”

“Niall, the campus shop is a ripoff,” is the response. It makes Harry stop and clutch a stack of notebooks to his chest. When he takes a breath in, his senses are hit with a light, playful citrus.

Niall and Louis walk right by the aisle he’s in. Neither of them notice Harry. 

Louis continues from one aisle over, “Why didn’t you order it online at the beginning of the term?”

Niall says, “Eh, I never buy the books unless I have to. And it turns out I have to for this one to finish the physics project.”

“Wait, this is for physics?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t professors usually pull work straight from the book?”

“Yeah.”

“How have you been completing assignments?”

“There’s a lovely little lass in there, she always makes a copy of it for me. Think she may have a bit of a crush, if I do say so myself.”

“Wouldn’t think too much of yourself, Neil. Just because I tolerate you doesn’t mean that other people do.”

Niall laughs and then sighs. “It’s a shame our schedules don’t overlap enough for a study session.”

“Yes, such a shame you can’t scam the poor girl into doing your project, too.”

Niall scoffs. “How little you think of me, Tommo.” A beat of silence. “I don’t see it here, I’ll have to ask.”

And just like that, Niall is at the top of his aisle again, looking around until he spots Harry. “Hi there,” he says, smiling wide. Louis pops up just behind him and freezes when he catches sight of Harry. It feels like a dream, to be in his presence again. He wonders if he can pull him aside and make sure he’s alright with what happened yesterday. Or maybe, if he’s really lucky, go in for that kiss he’d wanted to give him. His lips tingle at the thought. 

Niall continues, “Do you happen to have— oh, H, is that you? Shit I didn’t even see you, man! How are you?”

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis, a few paces behind Niall. “I’m good,” he says. “And you?”

“Great! Well, sort of great. I need this physics book that I didn’t see over there by all the maths stuff. Could you look it up and see if you have a copy somewhere?” he pauses and then nods to Harry’s arms. “Holding onto those pretty tight there, H.”

Harry looks down at the notebooks still hugged to his chest and he feels himself warm around the neck a bit. He loosens his grip and puts them down on the shelf in their correct space. The citrusy scent has gotten more powerful, and Harry takes advantage of his task to close his eyes for a moment and let himself feel it before he pulls himself together. When he looks back up, Louis is much closer and—

And he’s tucked under Niall’s arm. 

Niall looks down a bit curiously at Louis, but then chuckles a little. He gestures at Harry and says, “Harry and I had sociology together last semester. He’s the only reason I made it through that course without dying of boredom!” He nods his head at Louis, still looking at Harry, and asks, “Harry, have you met Louis?”

Harry nods a little dumbly, zeroed in on Louis’ hands clasped around Niall’s waist. “Yeah, uh, we… we have…”

“We have Romantic and Victorian Literature together,” Louis says, clearly aware that Harry isn’t going to get it out any time soon. Harry just nods again in confirmation. 

“Brilliant!” Niall says. “Did you know that this one got the TA job he was after? Buzzin’ about it.” He squeezes Louis in a little closer, and Louis collapses further into his side. Harry swallows and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, absolutely. Well deserved. He’s always saying brilliant things.”

“Ah, that’s my boy!” Niall whoops a little. “He’s smart as a whip, I’ll tell ya.” 

Harry looks down at Louis to see him looking tentatively up at Harry. 

And, fuck. He has a boyfriend. Niall is Louis’ boyfriend. Of course Louis has a boyfriend. Of course it’s someone as cheerful and upbeat and outgoing as Niall. 

A surge of ridiculous anger courses through Harry’s body. Louis is settling for a beta? When Harry is right in front of him, clearly wanting him, clearly able to give Louis everything an omega could possibly want in a mate? It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Utterly mad that an omega could pass up on a viable, strong alpha —someone who could protect him and provide for him and fill him up with pups. He watches Louis bite his lip and, fuck, he feels himself get a little turned on, thinking about pushing Louis up against the opposite shelves, scenting him, licking all up and down his neck until he doesn’t smell of anything but Harry. He’s wearing  _ my  _ shirt, he smells like  _ me _ , he’s  _ mine _ . 

And then in a flash, embarrassment is dumped over him like a bucket of cold water. 

He mentally smacks himself the fuck out of it because those are outdated ideals and horrendously possessive thoughts. He has absolutely no claim on Louis whatsoever. Why would Louis want him, anyway, when he has someone who looks at him the way Niall is. Harry is a dumbass and a knothead.

Harry looks up to Niall and tries to act normal. Obviously Louis didn’t tell him about how Harry practically shoved him up against his dormitory door and just about had his tongue down his throat, was going to paw at him and let his hands explore wherever Louis would let him... 

He coughs to push the thoughts away and looks between the two of them. “So, how long have you two—”

“A few years,” Louis cuts off, pink flushing up to his ears. Christ, he’s so fucking pretty. Eyes so wide, delicate hands still gripped tightly around Niall’s middle, Harry’s old faded Rolling Stones t-shirt so large and hanging off of his petite frame. 

Niall’s eyes light up. “Yeah, we met during the first week the first year. I latched onto him and haven’t given him a moment’s peace since!”

Louis looks up at Niall and grins tentatively. “That’s for sure.”

“Pretty sure the only reason he keeps me around is because I bring him free food.”

“That’s not true,” Louis says, squeezing a little tighter around Niall’s middle. “You also give good cuddles.”

“Ah, that I do LouLou, that I do.” He turns to Harry. “You tell everyone you know that, alright? Always looking to spread the cuddles around.” Then he winks at Harry. 

Which... is a little confusing, but it doesn’t seem that Louis minds —he doesn’t look even a little jealous— and Harry sighs. He would never be that okay with his person cuddling anyone but him. Even the thought of it has his skin vibrating a bit. Even seeing them cuddle now, in front of him, has him on edge. But he’ll just need to get over that, remove Louis from that box in his head; the  _ potentials  _ box. He does his best to ignore the pang bouncing around in his chest. 

“So, that book?” Niall asks.

“Right, yeah, of course. Do you know the name of it?”

Niall tells him the title, and Harry leaves them in the aisle to go look it up. It turns out they do have it —one copy left. He goes to the back storeroom to get it and indicates Niall should come up to the front so he can ring them up. 

“Ah, sick!” Niall says when Harry tells him. “Gotta be that Irish luck, it always does me right.”

Harry smiles tightly and resists the urge to look at Louis. Yeah, he guesses it does. 

Thursday turns out to be full-on torture, then, because even after Louis and Niall leave the shop, Harry’s brain forces him to think about Louis and gives him unhelpful intrusive thoughts, like that Harry should try to mate him anyway, regardless of having a boyfriend, or that he needs to try and steal Louis away from Niall —like Louis isn’t a person with his own thoughts and feelings and wants. 

Louis had wanted him, hadn’t he? Just a little bit? The way he tilted his head back against the door, exposing his neck. Closing his eyes, parting his lips, shuttering when their bodies got close. 

But no. Louis had leaned away from him in the lecture hall when trying to get out of the row, and purposefully tried to step away from him when they walked to the library, and then he chose the seat furthest from him while revising. All the signs were there that Louis did not reciprocate what Harry was putting out there. Anything else was just his body’s natural reaction to an alpha, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he read those signs more clearly?

Because he’s an arsehole, apparently. 

The next day, instead of nervous excitement to go to Rom-Vic, he just feels dread. He has to apologize to Louis for being such a knothead and he’s really not looking forward to that specific brand of humiliation. And maybe Louis actually will cut off their tutoring sessions, like he’d started to do on Wednesday. 

It’s what Harry should do. It’s what he will do. He needs to make a clean break, get some distance between him and Louis scent so he doesn’t rile up his alpha any more than he already has. He can’t have him. He has to pull away. 

Per usual, Louis is already in the lecture hall, towards the upper back. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, but even from all the way across the room Harry can tell they’re the ones he donated. The shirt is kind of sheer and where it hit Harry like a normal t-shirt, on Louis the sleeves end nearly at his elbows. 

The jeans are regular jeans, but Harry suspects if he got close enough he could see them bunched up at Louis’ ankles. They’ve also got a spot of dark purple thread on the inseam of the right leg from where Harry’s mum had to mend them when they got caught on a loose nail in a doorway. You wouldn’t be able to tell at all, if you didn’t know, but Harry knows and zeroed right in on them. He groans internally. It’s just not fair how good Louis looks in his clothes. 

Where does he sit? Does he take one of the first seats he finds? Does he try the other side of the room? Harry usually floats around the room for all of his lectures because he heard that changing your environment makes you think more creatively, but now  _ not  _ sitting in the row behind Louis feels like a statement, one he’s not sure he wants to make. 

Louis hasn’t noticed him yet; he’s turned the other way and rummaging through his bookbag. Harry takes a deep breath and makes his way up to the row he’s been in all week. Louis looks up just as Harry steps up into the row, and he freezes a little. Harry tries not to cringe, but he suspects he fails. 

“Hi Louis,” he says as he walks past him to his seat. He goes one further today, just to get slightly more distance. Maybe he’ll just be late to lectures from now on. He thinks Dr. Schwartz’ glares would make him feel warm and fuzzy in comparison to this sickening feeling, and then he can just take the first seat he finds without the anxious internal debate.

“Hi Curly,” he hears softly behind him. 

Harry does full-on cringe at the nickname, but it’s okay because he’s not facing Louis. Louis can’t see the twist in his face, the pain that comes with it. How lovely it is to have a nickname from a cute boy and how frustrating it is that he won’t call you by your actual name and how none of it matters anyway because he has a boyfriend. 

When he finally sits and faces forward, his eyes immediately go to the back of Louis’ head. His hair looks so soft, so shiny. Like if he started running his fingers through his hair, it would slide through like running water. 

One seat further away is both better and worse. It’s just a little bit difficult to smell him consistently now, but he’s got a better view of Louis’ neck and the soft curve of his shoulder. 

He sees his ears go a bit pink after he answers one of Dr. Schwartz’ questions, and then the little pleased smile he tries to hide as he looks down and to the right when she says he’s correct. He looks at the way his head tilts to the side as he tries to figure out what to type next in his notes. He watches him as he fidgets with the jean material around his right knee when he’s just listening to the lecture. It all makes Harry’s heartbeat pick up, all these little things he notices about the beautiful boy in front of him. 

Harry writes some notes of his own, in between studying Louis’ movements. The lecture is over too quickly though, and before he knows it, the feeling of dread is back in full force. 

He takes his time packing up, hoping a little that Louis will just leave and he can just pretend like he never embarrassed himself. In equal measure, he desperately hopes Louis will jump into his arms and tell him that he and Niall broke up because he can’t stop thinking of Harry and that he wants him to take Louis back to his room  _ immediately _ .

The room is empty except for the two of them by the time Harry looks up. Louis is standing expectantly at the end of the row, fingers closed around the straps of his bookbag. Harry pulls up his own bag over one shoulder and takes a deep breath. 

“So,” Harry starts, letting the breath out slow and even, in an attempt not to sigh mournfully. “Good lecture.”

Louis’ responding smile is kind and expectant, like he’s waiting for Harry to tell him they can’t continue. Like Harry has planned on doing. Like he’s going to. Right now. 

“Should we go to the library again?” Is what comes out of Harry’s mouth instead. 

Louis’ eyebrows shoot upwards. “The library?” 

He pauses. Is he really going to do this? Just because Louis expected him to break off lessons, is he really going to go back on what he needs to keep from looking even more like an knothead?

Harry nods, to himself and to Louis. “For tutoring,” he says. 

It takes another beat of Louis just  _ looking  _ at him —god, he’d love for Louis to look at him forever, because it’d mean he could look at Louis forever— before he nods in return and heads out of the room for their second tutoring session. 


	6. Chapter 6

The next week and a half is the busiest one Louis’ had his entire time at uni. Niall was right about people scheduling tutoring sessions just before midterms, and Louis barely has an hour to himself to revise for his own courses. 

He’s rolling in dough, though. 

It turns out that uni students don’t mind paying him in cash, and those that do are happy enough to pay via virtual app. 

For the first time in four years, Louis feels he won’t have to stress with money. By the time midterms fully wrap up, he’s got just over a thousand quid. He’s absolutely buzzing.

He pays Niall back for the gummies he gave him a few weeks ago, in between leaving one lecture to go to another (which is the only time he sees Niall in basically two weeks). Niall gives him a pointed look when they stop to chat for those few minutes but Louis brushes him off and stealthily sneaks a hug. It’ll give a little boost to keep the touch deprivation away for a bit longer. He doesn’t even feel bad like he normally does when he feels it coming on. He’s fine. 

His easiest tutoring sessions are, of course, with Harry. He’s smart and well organized, has good arguments; the only way Louis seems to help is in editing down his sometimes long-winded paragraphs. Harry insists Louis is a big help though, so Louis doesn’t suggest they cancel like he wants to. 

The biggest plus side of being too busy is that Louis can ignore his body. For the most part. He does his best to keep his distance from Harry, which helps tremendously, but even when one of them does accidentally cross over that imaginary barrier between them, Louis finds his brain is thinking too fast to be focused on what his body wants him to do.

And on those days, if he goes home at the end of the day and has a quick wank to thoughts of Harry’s dimples and the flex of his arms when he reaches for books on the highest library shelves, no one has to know. 

Louis is absolutely knackered. But midterms week is half over and he only has two tutoring sessions on Thursday for students who didn’t realize their Lit course had an essay  _ and  _ an exam. 

The double hit is something he’s used to, and he knows he’s aced his exams (tutoring has been like built-in study sessions for him) but his papers have left much to be desired. For Modern Lit, he didn’t even realize he’d forgotten to change the title of the paper from his stand-in title  _ Fanfiction as Societal Commentary: How the Hell Would I Know _ .

Yeah, he’s not expecting Ms. Oppenheimer to go easy on him with that one. 

Truly, the only one he’d put any amount of effort into was Rom-Vic and that’s because Louis thought it poor-taste to bomb a paper for a professor he’s working for. Not a good look when you’re grading other student papers. 

Both students in his last tutoring sessions say they feel moderately better prepared, and one even promises a cupcake for him next week when she’s  _ “not about to cut her own arms off from stress” _ ), and now he has his whole night free. 

It’s his first night off in a couple of weeks and he’s starting to feel his skin itch a little, like it does when it feels like he’s missing something. 

He calls Niall, who has to work that and the next night, but says he can come around Saturday morning with cinnamon rolls and coffee. Louis makes him promise to switch it to tea (coffee mixed with touch deprivation equals too much energy and bouncing away anytime someone tries to get near him) and agrees. 

Okay, this is okay. 

With some of his extra money, Louis makes his way to Second Chances, in hopes of getting a couple more shirts he can actually wear (and maybe strong-arming a hug out of Zayn, who prefers to save his cuddles for when he can spend some time, but who’s helped Louis through his depri for almost a decade now, and who’ll understand desperate depri times call for desperate depri-saving measures). 

Louis walks up and down the aisles, touching the shirts as he goes. Nothing stands out to him like it did last time. Nothing feels right. Even things he would normally go for (like that black tank with “Skate Tough” on the front of it) just don’t call out like they usually would. 

He does another walk through and spends more time looking everything over. He grabs two shirts that feel soft, but as soon as he brings one over his head to make sure it fits he immediately yanks it off. 

A bright, fluffy forest green pull-over calls out to him from the women’s section, because of the color, although he can’t pin-point why. It feels nice on his skin, soft and soothing. But when he holds it to his chest to look at some other tops, it suddenly isn’t right either. 

It’s wrong. Every single piece of clothing in the place is wrong. 

(How can a fucking piece of material be wrong? How can they all be wrong? He feels like he’s going mad.)

He sees Zayn at the counter, sketching as usual, and at least there’s something right in this place; he can count on a bit of a cuddle from his friend. He’ll beg if he has to, but he’s hoping he won’t have to. 

Halfway there, his mobile starts ringing from his pocket. Zayn doesn’t look up, just continues sketching, and when Louis sees it’s his mum calling, he takes a left and starts a loop around the store. Hopefully it’ll be a quick check-in chat. 

“Hey, Mum,” Louis answers. 

_ “Hi Boo, how’s everything?” _

He pauses, considers telling his mum his current state, but decides against it. It’d make him feel better, sure, to know someone knew what was happening, but it would only make her worry. She’s too far away to do anything; no sense in making her fret. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just trying to do a bit of shopping.” 

_ “Find anything you like?”  _ she asks. She sounds a bit distracted. He hears pieces of paper being shuffled together over the line. 

“Maybe. Nothing quite jumping out at me.” 

He tries again to look at the rows and rows of tops, hung haphazardly on hangers. Some of them are truly awful (although, nothing quite in comparison to the couple of actual  _ blouses _ he bought last time he was here) and some are decent enough (but nothing of what he wants or what he’s looking for, whatever that is). 

_ “Ah, well, give it some time, love.” _

“Sure, yeah. Might try another shop or something.”

She makes a light agreeing noise, like she usually does when she’s not sure what to say next. 

“Everything alright, Mum?”

_ “Hm? Oh, yes, darling, of course. Of course. Everything’s fine here. Your sisters are well. Doris and Ernie have grown, you’ll be amazed when you see them.” _

Louis smiles at that, and moves to the kid’s section, looks at the little shoes. There’s a light-up pair there and they’ve got dinosaurs on them. Doris had been obsessed with dinosaurs when he left for uni at the end of the summer. He wonders if she’s still as mad for them as she was. He’s just about to ask when his mum clears her throat. 

_ “Love, erm, I really hate to do this over the phone…” _

Louis furrows his eyebrows and stops to stare at a Dali-esque piece of art. “What? What’s wrong?” It’s a painting of a ship with butterflies as the sails, half-way out to sea. On the shore, there are caterpillars made to look like a compass. 

_ “Do you...do you remember last week when I mentioned I was taking Fizzy for her learner’s on Monday?” _

“Yes,” he says it slow, drawing it out. The blue of the ocean in the paining is quite relaxing. He keeps his gaze focused on that. 

_ “Well, she passed, which is the great news! But...unfortunately the car broke down on the way back home.” _

“Okay,” he says. “Is everyone okay?”

The waves look white, but beneath them, Louis can see layers of different colors. Some soft pinks and greens, some darker purples and navys. 

_ “Yes, of course, darling, we’re all alright. It’s just. It’s just that I’ve taken the car into the shop. And. To fix it. It’s as much as your last tuition payment this term.” _

The sky is a cloudy mixture of off-white and grey. There is some peachy orange around the edges, but not enough to shine through at first glance. 

_ “I’m going to pick up some extra shifts at the hospital, I was just hoping you could reach out to the financial office and let them know. That payment will be late.” _ She laughs. It’s an embarrassed sort of laugh, one that makes Louis want to go back in time and make sure cars are never invented so his mother doesn’t have to feel something like this. 

“Mum—”

_ “I’m so sorry, Louis, to do that to you. I know I said I wanted to pay for your last year at uni so you didn’t have to worry, and now here I am adding to the worry. You’d worked so hard to pay for all your other years and I can’t even do this right—” _

“Mum, no, no don’t,” he says, “I’ve got it covered.”

There a short muffled sound over the phone.  _ “I’m so sorry, Boo, I just feel awful. You work so hard, and I said that your money should finally be your money this year and now this has gone and happened. I wanted to do this for you—“ _

“No,” he cuts her off, shaking his head even though she can’t see him. “I was actually… yeah I was actually going to call you this weekend. I, uh, got a scholarship. From the OLC. So, that’s being taken care of. The last payment.”

_ “What?” _ her voice sounds lifted, hopeful. Louis winces. He’s not a very good liar, not on the spot like this, but it helps that she can’t see his face. 

“Yeah, the Omega Learning Community gives a scholarship out once a year to a graduating student. And they chose me this time. And it could have applied to either semester, but I’ll just have them apply it to this one.”

_ “Oh, oh Louis that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you love! I know how much work you put into it, they couldn’t have picked someone better.”  _ She sounds much lighter now. Louis breathes a sigh away from his mobile so she won’t hear it. 

“Yeah, Mum, I’m chuffed, honest.”

_ “I can’t believe you waited more than a moment to tell me!” _

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with midterms.”

_ “Oh, love, no, no apologies. I’m just so proud of you.”  _

Louis looks back up to the butterfly-wing-sails, and now it feels like a dozen pairs of eyes are staring at him. 

“Could you just tell me how much the final payment is? I just need to tell the OLC so they can make the check out properly.”

_ “Wouldn’t they just go through the financial office?” _

Louis winces. “Yeah, maybe. I can ask them.”

_ “Lou, is it all of the payment though? I can send whatever I can—” _

“No, it’s all of it. I checked. I asked.”

_ “Well, that’s fantastic, Boo. Again, congratulations, I couldn’t be prouder of you. And more relieved!”  _ she laughs. Louis forces out a laugh too.  _ “I felt so guilty. And to be honest, I didn’t know how I was going to balance more shifts and finding someone to watch the babies. Honestly, what luck!” _

“Yeah, great luck.”

She pauses.  _ “Lou, you sound down.” _

“What? No, sorry, Mum. I’m just distracted.”

_ “Oooo,” _ she says.  _ “Is there a cute boy around?” _

Louis genuinely laughs at that. “No, no cute boys around at the moment. Unless you count me.”

_ “Always count you, Lou! The cutest boy there ever was.”  _ Her voice goes a bit higher, softer as she says to someone on her end of the line,  _ “And you, my beautiful baby boy! My two boys, the cutest there ever was!” _

“Alright, give Ernie a kiss for me. Tell the girls I miss them.”

_ “I will, darling, I will. And Lou?” _

“Yeah?”

_ “I love you, darling,”  _ she says, sweetly. 

“Love you too, Mum.”

He hangs up and looks at the painting for another thirty seconds before he turns around. Maybe he should buy it instead of clothes. It’s weird, but does have a sort of calming effect on him. 

Maybe he would have, if he had any money anymore. 

Someone else is at the register when Louis gets to it. 

“Hi, is Zayn on his break?”

“Nah,” a bulky alpha-looking bro says. He’s got a short mohawk with a streak of pink in it and nose ring. He’s cute in exactly all the ways Louis usually finds boys cute, but Louis doesn’t really find he’s attracted to him. “His shift ended about five minutes ago and he booked it out of here.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, I think he said something about going to a party.”

Right, Zayn had said he was going to that fraternity party to see the guy he’s been crushing on from his maths course. Louis looks at his phone, and it tells him it’s just past seven. Maybe he can catch him from his dorm on his way over there. 

What has he become; stalking people for a hug.

“Whoa, dude, are you okay?” Mohawk guy says. He’s got concern written all over his face. 

Louis just nods. 

“I don’t wanna like...come off weirdly, or anything —I really am sorry to say this— but you smell kind of nervous.”

Louis nods again and backs away. 

“Sorry. Do you need like...a hug? Maybe? Sorry!” Mohawk guy yells after him. 

Louis doesn’t bother responding, just leaves the shop and heads for home as quickly as he can. He crosses to the opposite side of the street twice to avoid groups of alphas on their way to do what alpha college kids do on their Thursday nights. 

It takes him twice as long to get back to his dorm with all the switching and being extra paranoid that an alpha is going to smell this feeling on him and...well, he’s heard the stories. Nearly every omega’s got one. 

It’s fine, he’s fine. 

He makes it back to his building and sighs. He feels the relief right up until Zayn doesn’t answer the knocks on his dorm room door, and then gets rewarded for his impatience with Zayn’s very annoyed roommate who tells him to fuck off because he’s revising for his last midterm exam and he will murder Louis if he knocks again. 

Louis gets the door slammed in his face. 

Louis waits two beats before knocking again and then sprinting back to his side of the building to his own room. 

He puts on soothing music and gets into bed before pulling his laptop up with him. His mum thinks he got a scholarship, which he very much didn’t, so now all of his tutoring money has to go to his uni payment. 

The school website takes forever to load, and the financial page takes the longest. It’s confusing and cluttered, and takes Louis exactly too long before he finds the balance and payment webpage. He sputters at the amount. 

One thousand. One hundred. Sixteen. Pounds. 

He’s short seventy-six quid. Fuck. 

Breathing deeply in and out for a few minutes, he tries to quiet his rushing thoughts. Okay, it’s okay. He’s got his emergency stash to pay for his December stabilizers, so he can use that and then buy a cheaper, generic kind with the money from the tutoring sessions and TA-ing next week. It’s not ideal, but it’s worked for him in the past. 

He’ll make it work. He’s got no other option. 

The moment he thinks it, an ad pops up on his Facebook page for an omega clinical trial, baiting him with the promise of two hundred pounds just for signing up for one lab. He shuts his laptop with a flourish before he has time to think about it. It’s a bad idea, and an even worse one to think about it when he’s like this. 

Like this. 

He brews tea. He snuggles up into his blankets. He puts on his Hot-N-Hard shirt and then two sweaters he’s had since he was seventeen, ones that are nice and worn in. He watches things that make him laugh, and then some things that make him cry. None of them make him feel better really. 

God, he was actually feeling like things were okay, that he had the chance to save up a little, maybe. Give himself a bit of a cushion for next semester. Buy himself some generic-brand stims on those days he’s feeling a little off. They might have even helped now. Maybe. 

Maybe he should just skip his lectures tomorrow. Harry and he’d already agreed on no tutoring (with midterms just done, there’s nothing new to revise for). He should just start his weekend early, get a chance to stay in his bed for 36 hours straight and drink all of the tea he can. 

Then, at the end of his cocooning, Niall can come over and snuggle up with him for the rest of the weekend. He’ll even allow him to talk about the twelve thousand crushes he has from his courses and work and randomly passing by people in the street (which he would normally scoff at and say  _ Neil, no one likes you please remember that you’re hideous with an awful personality);  _ he would let him talk for hours if he gets to be held. 

Taking another sip of tea, he sighs. He can’t skip his lectures. At the very least he’s got to go to Rom-Vic to drop off the exams he reviewed for Dr. Schwartz, and if he doesn’t go to his morning lectures first, he won’t actually leave the bed. 

He can do this. 

The tea helps. The tea always helps, though, so that’s not that much of a surprise. Remembering the gummies, Louis takes half of the orange one, and falls asleep thinking of the sounds of the ocean. 


	7. Chapter 7

Harry knows something is off immediately when he walks into Rom-Vic on Friday afternoon. He sees the other four alpha’s in the course keep glancing up and back; when he follows their line of sight, it falls on Louis, who’s looking dazed and very out of it, but like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. 

Since the course is made up of mostly betas, the general vibe is calm, but the alphas are all sort of on edge. The six other omegas in the room seem normal, but they are resolutely not looking in Louis’ direction. Like they are decidedly minding their own business. Which doesn’t feel quite right to Harry, but he’s too distracted to really think about it. 

A tall, lean alpha girl —the one who’s closest to Louis at the back of the room— is tapping her laptop’s space button every few seconds, like a nervous tick, and then she’s fully turning around to look at Louis. 

A surge of protectiveness kicks in —he’s going to stick with that: protectiveness, not jealousy, he’s never been jealous so it’s definitely not jealousy— and he moves fast as he walks to the end of Louis’ row and sits down, blocking the path of anyone who was even thinking of sitting next to the — _ oh fuck, Christ—  _ very  _ anxious  _ omega. 

He doesn’t even have anything out in front of him; not his laptop, not his notebook, not even a post-it note. It’s not like him at all. 

He’s wearing Harry’s clothes again, but it’s the most confusing outfit he’s seen. He’s got on his own joggers, it seems, and then Harry’s deep red pussybow top, bow undone so the strings are hanging down his front. Over that is a thick denim jacket and a thick grey beanie on top of his head.

From four seats over, while Harry is in the middle of assessing him, Louis glances over quickly —like he’s just noticed another person there— before turning his attention back up front, It’s like he doesn’t really see Harry. He’s just a body. 

Instead of leaning in to the wounded feeling of that, he turns back and makes eye-contact with each alpha until they settle a bit and turn around. He still feels their energy, but it’s subdued now that they know the omega will be taken care of. Harry tries not to focus on how much of a lie that feels like as he pulls out his laptop and sets it up in front of him. 

He’s just about to turn and whisper to ask if Louis is okay when Dr. Schwartz welcomes them and dives right in to the topic. 

The entire lecture is agony. It’s mostly Dr. Schwartz reviewing the midterm exam and telling them the requirements for their final essays due at the end of the semester. Harry doesn’t care... at all. He’s focused on the rigidness of Louis’ neck, the way his shoulders are hunched and the fact that for the first time ever he isn’t taking notes.

Harry can feel the vibrations of the tension rolling off of him, and more than anything, he wants to take Louis in his arms and scent him until he calms down. 

_ Not an option _ , Harry reminds himself.  _ Not an option at all, keep your fucking pheramones to yourself, idiot.  _

Before the lecture is officially over, Harry starts packing up, scared that Louis is going to try to bolt out of the room as soon as he can. Harry wouldn’t stop him, but he wants to be able to keep up and try inconspicuously walk him home, keep him safe. 

Instead, Louis takes a long time to even realize the lecture is over. Everyone else has long since left the room, including Dr. Schwartz; it’s just the two of them now. 

Harry stands and walks a couple rows down so that he can make it clear he’s waiting for Louis, but with enough room that the omega can get around him with plenty of space if he wants to. Harry hopes he doesn’t want to. 

Louis grabs his bookbag, moves it to his shoulders with a slight wince, and keeps his head down as he gets to the end of the row. When they lock eyes, Louis’ pupils are blown wide, eyes a little glazed over and he’s breathing raggedly and too fast. 

There’s still that tension Harry felt throughout the lecture, but no scent change.

Harry puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Louis?” he tries. 

It causes Louis to breath faster, but he doesn’t look away from Harry. “Are you, uh, are you scared of me?” he asks. It hurts to ask, and even if it doesn’t feel like that’s it, he needs to, just to make sure. He’d never hurt anyone. Never hurt Louis. 

Louis shakes his head and grips onto the straps of his bookbag. 

“Okay. Are you sick?”

A pause and then a shaking of his head. 

“Do you want to sit?”

More head shaking. No. 

“Do you want to walk?”

A pause, no movement. Louis closes his eyes and breathes. Something about the gesture makes him flashback to when his sister, Gemma, took her final exams during secondary school, the way she’d closed in on herself, set herself into early heat with all the stress and the panic of it all. 

And… ah, okay. Harry stands straighter and squares his shoulders. This might be an omega thing, and it’s definitely a Louis thing, and he can handle that much better, he thinks. 

“How do you feel about milkshakes?” Harry asks. 

Louis opens his eyes, still looking a little lost, but now also confused. 

“Let’s go to the diner a few blocks away. Do you think you can make it if we walk?” He has his car, but movement always helped Gemma.

And also Harry doesn’t know if he could handle being confined in a small space with Louis. Doesn’t think he could stop himself from scenting him if they were that close. 

A pause, and then Louis nods. Harry nods, too, and starts backing his way down the steps. Louis follows after. 

It’s uncomfortable to turn his back on Louis, but he does it to give the omega some space to work through his feelings. He can sense him behind, anyway, and that’s something at least. He can smell him, too, but he’s trying not to focus on it. 

They don’t talk the entire way there. When they get to the diner, Harry talks to the waitress and orders three different kinds of milkshakes straight away, unsure of what Louis likes. Gemma was always partial to strawberry when she felt this way; said she liked the taste and the texture of it, with bits of strawberry chunks in there. 

Harry talks a bit, as they sit in their booth and wait for the shakes. It’s all nonsense, but Harry is good at talking nonsense. 

He tells a story about when he tried to learn to play the banjo and it went horribly wrong. He follows it up with one about how he like candles, but can’t go to candle stores because the smells are too overwhelming so he needs to buy them online. He leaves out the part where Lemon Sunshine is his favorite one. 

Louis’ just looking at him the entire time, but more like the air around him than actually at him. 

He’s in the middle of his third knock knock joke, chiming in to ask himself  _ lettuce who? _ when the waitress comes by with their order. Probably for the best, that’s not one of his greatest. 

She asks if they need anything else and Harry says no, and then waits until she walks away before trying to grab Louis’ attention. 

“Louis?” he says, tentatively. “Louis? Do you want a milkshake?”

Louis finally locks into the eye-contact with Harry and then looks down at the glasses in front of them, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a cherry. 

“Which do you want? Vanilla? Strawberry? Chocolate?”

Louis looks between all of them and hesitates before reaching for the chocolate one. He takes a sip, and then another, and then another. He’s a quarter of the way through when he grabs for the strawberry and takes a couple of sips of that one, too. 

It takes a minute, but Harry feels the tension ebb away a bit, as Louis alternates between the chocolate and strawberry. He can’t help but just sit and watch him. 

Finally, Louis looks up to Harry again, and then looks to the untouched vanilla. Harry’s just about to push it towards him, just happy that he’s starting to perk up, when Louis takes the cherry from his strawberry glass, adds it to the vanilla and pushes the glass towards Harry. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, and takes a small sip. 

Louis nods and doesn’t say anything until his strawberry glass is empty. He pushes it to the end of the table, and moves the chocolate fully in front of him. 

“Sorry,” Louis says. He decidedly does not make eye-contact. And before Harry can protest, he adds, “I don’t usually get it in public like that.” 

Harry just nods. He’s not totally sure what ‘it’ is, but he knows he means what just happened. 

“You must think I'm psycho.” He laughs a little humorlessly. 

Harry furrows his brows. “Of course not,” he says. 

Louis shrugs. “It’s okay if you do. I sort of do.” It feels like he has more to say, so Harry just waits. Louis laughs a little again. It sounds hollow. “I’m a terrible omega.” 

Harry can feel his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

Louis shrugs. “It’s just like...like I have all of these emotions, and we’re just supposed to be built to deal with them, you know? But sometimes I can’t keep them in like I’m supposed to. Sometimes they seep out and before I know it I’m all worked up. And it’s never over anything specific, really, just like, everything. It piles up.” He pauses and takes another sip. 

“I’m usually better about dealing with them on my own, you know?” he continues, “I’ve gotten good at pulling away. Most of the time Mum and Zayn don’t even know, and they’ve known me my whole life. Like if I feel it coming on I just lock myself up for a day or two and then I’m okay. Mostly okay.”

He looks up at Harry. 

“I felt it coming on a little, yesterday, but I thought I could push it off. I can usually push it off, for a little bit. Figured I’d have the whole weekend to deal with it. But then it gets to a point if I’m out, and it happens… I don’t want— I  _ can’t _ be alone. So I’m sorry that you’re dealing with this.”

Harry is already shaking his head before Louis finishes the sentence. He fights the urge to reach across the table, take his hand from around the glass and lace their fingers together. They’d be cold. Harry could warm them up. 

He clasps his hands in front of him, instead. 

“My sister is an omega,” he says. “I know not everyone feels things the same way, but something similar used to happen to her when she got too stressed. It messed with her mentally and...physically,” Harry says, in lieu of mentioning a heat, which seems inappropriate.

Louis nods like he knows what that means, anyway. 

“Milkshakes used to help her. Sugar, in general, but cream-based sugary things seemed to work the best, so that’s why I thought… you know, maybe this would help.”

Louis nods again, taking another sip of his second shake. “Still sorry you have to deal with me. It’s different than helping your sister.”

_ The biggest understatement _ , Harry thinks. 

“It’s not… I’m not… ugh, how do I put this without sounding like a complete knob,” Harry says. Louis doesn’t smile, but something happens in his eyes. “I guess, I’m happy to be here? Or, no. Happy that you trusted me enough to let me help you. We don’t, we don’t really know each other and after… anyway, it’s not a problem for me. To be here. With you.” 

He’s expecting another nod, or maybe a thank you, but what he gets is a small smirk from the boy across from him. “Yeah? You speak so eloquently, Curly.”

Harry shrugs one shoulder, smile lopsided to match. Now that Louis seems to be coming out of it, it’s nice to focus on his lilting voice. 

“First you tell me a story about a banjo, then one about candles, and then three horrendous knock-knock jokes—”

“I only finished two,” Harry interrupts. 

“I deduced that the third was awful as well, based on context.”

Harry full-on grins at that. “Someone had to be the one to liven things up,” he jokes, a little nervously. 

Louis lets out one big “ha” at that. “Don’t know if bad jokes can count as livening things up. I’ll give it to you on the milkshakes though. Can’t believe I’ve had two whole ones.” He pats his stomach and then sort of frowns at it, tugging the red material away from his abdomen. 

Looking down at the glass, Harry sees that Louis has finished his chocolate now. “Do you want another one?”

Louis bites his lip and looks up through lidded eyes. “Is it bad if I say yes?”

Fucking hell, why does he have to be this stunning. 

Harry takes another sip of his milkshake to cover up the need to swallow his feelings down. “Not at all.” Harry waves to get the attention of the waitress. 

She comes over and Harry asks for another milkshake. When she asks which kind, Harry looks to Louis, who tugs a bit at the strings of his burgundy shirt down at his thighs as he asks, “Do you have mint chocolate chip?”

They do, and the waitress puts an order in for one. 

“Is that your favourite?” Harry asks. 

Louis nods. “Yeah, I like the chocolate bits.”

Harry feels himself smile very wide, impossibly endeared. “I’ll remember that.”

Louis lets out a huff of breath. “Well, I hope you won’t need to.”

Right, of course, he won’t need to know that; they’re not even friends. Harry finds that he’s slouched across the table, hands crossed over to Louis’ side. He tries to pull back as subtly as he can, but Louis’ eyes move down to where his elbows slide back to his part of the booth. 

The waitress comes back with the milkshake and Louis smiles gratefully at her and then takes a sip. His cheeks hollow from how much he’s sucking up through the straw, and his eyes flick up to meet Harry’s and  _ Jesus Christ _ it all suddenly feels so dirty. 

The tips of Louis’ ears are red and both of his tiny hands are around the base of the milkshake glass. It feels too familiar to something else involving all of those things. 

Harry clears his throat. “How is it?”

Louis nods and pulls off the straw. “It’s good, do you want some?”

The only way Harry wants to taste that milkshake is by licking it out of Louis’ mouth. He can’t exactly say that, though, so he just shakes his head no. 

“So…” Louis starts. “Do you want to revise?”

Harry nods and they both get their laptops out of their bags. There’s nothing new, but he doesn’t want to say that for fear that Louis will leave. 

Louis asks Harry to pull up the start of his final paper and they work on that. Then Louis quizzes Harry on some of the things they’ve learned in the last couple of weeks and Harry shares whatever notes he has from today —which is not a lot, given how he was monitoring Louis the entire time. 

They’ve been at it for an hour — at the diner for nearly an hour and a half— when Harry hears Louis’ stomach rumble. He calls the waitress over again and orders chips and onion rings and chicken tenders; hearty greasy food to balance out the sweet richness of the shakes. 

When the food comes, they push everything off to the side and have an unspoken agreement to not talk about Rom-Vic until they’re done. 

“What are you studying?” Louis asks. 

He’s pretty sure they talked about that a couple of weeks ago, but even Harry can’t be totally sure what he said that afternoon; he was too mesmerized by the way Louis walked and talked and looked so serious when reviewing terms. 

“I don’t have a major, yet.”

Louis laughs and then stops when he realizes Harry is serious. “What?”

“Yeah, I haven’t picked one.”

“Can you do that?”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh. “I believe so. Or else I’m fucked. No, I’ll need to pick next semester. Should have picked this semester.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Harry lets out a long sigh through his nose and shrugs. It’s the question he gets from everyone, from the guidance officer to his Nana to his dentist. He usually just tells them he’s a terrible decision-maker, but Louis was so vulnerable with him earlier, he feels like he needs to return that emotional investment. “I suppose I’m scared of limiting myself.” 

“How d’you mean?”

“I like all of these things. I like art history and sociology and Rom-Vic, even though Dr. Schwartz scares me a little,” he says, in hopes of getting Louis to smile. He does, big and with an understanding tilt of his head. More seriously, Harry continues, “I’m afraid if I pick a course study I’ll be missing out on all of those other things. And then what if what I chose doesn’t lead to a job anyway? Just wish I could stay at uni forever.”

It sounds dumb as it comes out of his mouth, but Louis’ just nodding, like he gets it. 

“I’d stay here forever, too, if I could afford it,” he says. 

“There’s just so much to learn.”

Louis nods emphatically. “There is.”

They eat in companionable silence for a while, both thinking about what life would be like with endless learning. At least, that’s what Harry’s thinking about. Given the light thread of tension, but general mellow energy Louis is emitting, he’d guess that Louis is on the same page. 

Once there are only scraps of chips and onion ring batter left on the plates in front of them, Harry asks Louis about his favourite music, and Louis asks Harry what he loved doing as a kid that he doesn’t do anymore. 

What’s the best color to look at when you’re feeling sad. 

Who’s the most ridiculous person you idolize. 

How would you spend a million pounds if all the leftover money would disappear by midnight. 

Question after question, each answer more glorious and sillier than the last. Harry feels warm and happy. Even as people filter out of the diner, and the busboy comes by to collect their dirty dishes, leaving just the two of them on their side of the restaurant. He doesn’t even feel bad about taking up the table and staying too long, as he normally would, content to stay here and talk to Louis all night. 

Eventually, Louis’ phone buzzes from his bag, and his eyes go wide, like he forgot he had something that could do that. He reads and responds to a text. From Niall, Harry’s guessing. When Louis looks up, he’s got this bewildered expression on his face. 

“Holy fuck, it’s 9pm.” 

Harry nods. He’s almost surprised it’s not later, if he’s honest. 

“I’ve taken up seven hours of your time mate, fucking hell.”

“I had fun,” Harry says, because it’s the shortest and truest thing he can say. If he says anymore he’ll make a fool of himself. 

“Yeah, me too,” Louis says, eyes crinkling at the edges. Fucking hell, why hasn’t Harry spent all his time just looking at Louis’ eyes. There’s not a nicer blue in the world, he’s sure.

Harry pays the check with some mild arguing from Louis, offering to pay at least half considering all the milkshakes, but Harry just ignores him. Louis huffs, but seems pleased, anyway. They stand and gather their things, sort of hovering by the table before Harry reluctantly leads them out of the diner.

He offers Louis a ride home, saying they’d just need to walk to his car, but Louis shakes his head and says no, but thank you, since he’s troubled Harry enough and there’s a bus that stops just in front of the diner that’ll take him back most of the way. 

He wants to protest that it’s not safe for an omega to be out on their own late at night, but he bites his tongue because even if it’s coming from a good place, he knows it’d sound kind of sexist. Instead, they wait at the bus stop and he makes jokes to see Louis’ face light up, equally from genuine laughter and delight in how bad they are. 

When they see the bus approaching, Louis hesitates and then wraps his arms around Harry’s middle in a light but firm hug. Instinctively, Harry returns the embrace in full force, holding him protectively to his chest. 

“Thank you,” Louis murmurs into his shoulder. 

Harry pets along the hair at the back of his head to the collar of the denim jacket, inhaling his scent. He nearly moans at having all of him so close. He only just stops himself from it by choking out an, “Anytime.”

Then he pulls away because he knows he has to.

“Harry,” Louis says quickly. “We could be friends, couldn’t we?”

_ Friends  _ breaks and heals his heart in the space of two beats. 

“Aren’t we already?” Harry asks, with more playfulness than he feels. 

Louis beams. “Yeah, of course we are.”

Harry watches the bus until he can’t see it anymore, and then for another minute, before he begins the walk back to campus to get his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's knock-knock joke:   
> Knock knock.  
> Who’s there?  
> Lettuce.  
> Lettuce who?  
> Lettuce in, it’s cold out here!


	8. Chapter 8

Louis’ courses are going well. TA-ing is still hard, but rewarding. With midterms over, he’s had a bit more time to go back to OLC duties he had before. He’s broke still, of course, but it doesn’t feel as bad as it did and he starts to feel a bit more like himself after the... incident. 

Being friends with Harry is good. 

It’s okay, really. Good. Only a little bit torture. And only because Louis keeps forgetting they’re just friends when he stares into his bright green eyes for a little too long. 

They continue to revise and have their normal tutor/tutee dynamic, but they also make jokes, goof off and play little pranks on innocent students milling about. And when the hour is up, Harry always says he’s hungry, and they always grab a snack (or sometimes dinner). Sometimes Louis lets himself get caught up, sits a little too close and ends up overwhelmed by Harry’s smell, and then he ends up pulling back to have an unfairly large distance between them. 

Harry never says anything about it. 

The cold hard truth of it is that Harry’s brilliant. 

Yeah, he takes too long to tell his stories and he has an unfortunate habit of chewing gum with his mouth open, but instead of feeling annoyed Louis just feels endeared. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop; for Harry to snap at him, turn full aggressive alpha like his ex-boyfriend or for Harry to finally say ‘fuck you for not sleeping with me Louis, you’re worth nothing more, anyway.’

But it never comes, and Louis’ having a hard time balancing his feelings on that. 

He’d almost forgotten that he’d led Harry to believe he was dating Niall (as if) when Harry brings it up one day. 

“How’s Niall?”

Louis scoffs. “Same charming motherfucker, as usual.”

Harry smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Does it get him in trouble?”

Louis shrugs. “From time to time, but he always seems to worm his way out of it. Charming people are like that. Sure, you must know your way around that one, don’t you, Curly?”

Shaking his head, Harry taps his pen against Louis arm. It’s not even his body, not even his skin, and Louis feels a zip of electricity run through him. 

“Niall is much more charming than I am.”

Louis doesn’t know about that. He says as much. 

“He charmed his way to your heart, didn’t he?”

Louis laughs big and bright. It’s just a ridiculous thing to say. To his heart, like he won him over and they’re dating or something. 

Or something. 

He falters. And then he coughs, trying to pretend he didn’t just realize. 

( _ Yeah, so, funny thing Harry… I know I sort of made it look like we were dating, but we aren’t. It was just that I don’t really date and I was feeling completely overwhelmed by how much you affected me and I wasn’t ready for it. _ )

(Maybe,  _ Ha, psych! Fooled you! That was a great prank wasn’t it? Really had you going. You want to go make out behind the last row of stacks? _ )

(Or maybe he can pretend he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Lie, fake like he never did anything of the sort.)

What comes out instead is, “Yeah.”

Harry nods, still smiling: “See? More charming than me.” And then he looks like he regrets saying it. 

Louis forces out a laugh and Harry winces. 

“So… I’m hungry,” Harry says after a few minutes of their first-ever awkward silence. “I was thinking of going over to the student union for an early dinner. Do you want to come with?”

“Can’t actually,” Louis says. And right away his heart tears a little from the uncomfortable look on Harry’s face. “I’d love to, honestly: but I’ve got an OLC meeting I’ve got to get to.” After another beat of silence, he coughs and adds, “We’re doing a Casino night fundraiser next week. Just finalizing everything, you know. Trying to recruit helpers. People to build things. All of that.”

“I’m good with my hands,” Harry says. Louis flushes from his ears to his toes. Harry must realize his double entendre, because he looks a bit pink as well. “Erm, I mean, I could help build something. If you wanted. Needed.”

“You want to build a booth for the OLC?”

Harry shrugs and nods. 

“Why?”

He shrugs again. “I like… building stuff. And if you need it for a fundraiser, that’s a good cause.”

Louis pauses. “Uh, yeah. Okay, thanks Harry that’d be great.”

Harry’s entire face lights up and he stands quickly. “Where’s the meeting?”

“It’s in a room in the C building. Sorry, it’s members only for the actual meeting, I’m afraid. Unless you’re looking to join,” he jokes. 

“That sounds nice.”

“What?”

“Joining the OLC, it sounds nice.”

“You want to join the Omega Learning Community?”

Harry stops packing his stuff up for a moment, looking down into his bookbag like it has an answer he’s looking for. “I mean, I don’t have to. Or… is it allowed?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “Erm, yeah, it’s open to anyone who’s interested in expanding omega opportunities on campus.”

“I’m all for that.”

Louis smiles a little, and says sincerely, “Yeah, I know you are.”

Harry must read it as something else because he finishes packing up and looks back at Louis, a little guarded in his eyes. “Well, maybe next semester.”

“Oh, yeah of course.”

“Can I walk you there?”

Louis wants to say yes. Yesyesyes. Walk me there and wait for me and then walk me home and then kiss me. 

“Nah, Curly. It’s in the opposite direction from the student union, anyway… but thanks.”

Harry just nods. “Alright well…”

“You should give me your number.” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up and he locks eyes with him. “For your hands. Booth! The booth building for the OLC. To let you know.”

Louis holds out his phone for Harry to put in his number. After a brief pause, he does and then gives it back quickly. Harry leaves with a small wave and “Thanks, Louis.”

He shouldn’t be allowed to say his name. Not with how warm it makes him feel. He should also never be allowed to say anything but his name; nothing’s ever sounded nicer anywhere, he’s sure if it. 

They text that night about where Harry should go to help build what the OLC needs. And then Harry sends him a picture of his avocado toast, which apparently is his dinner, so Louis has to absolutely demolish him for his love of avocados, yet again. 

And then Louis sees a picture of a frog wearing a white cowboy hat, so he sends that to Harry with a “this is you” text. Harry responds with a picture of a hedgehog inside a teacup saying “Dis you.” Naturally they spend the rest of the day sending pictures of frogs and hedgehogs back and forth. 

And then it just becomes… natural. Louis sends updates on the final stages of Casino Night, Harry sends pictures of the booth and the platform as it all comes together. 

Louis gets stopped at least a dozen times with people saying how awesome Harry is. Jesy stops him after the meeting just before the event to tell him that Harry’s been indispensable - not only building what they need, but painting things too, and offering to come help set up day-of. 

It absolutely does not give Louis a warm, gooey feeling in his heart. It doesn’t. 

Suddenly it’s the first Saturday in December and the morning of the event. 

Harry sends Louis a picture of the finished set up on the top floor of the library building. There are stations and half set-up black-jack and poker tables. They hired one real black-jack dealer to teach the student volunteers how to play the game, and they’re all huddled together at a table right in the middle. 

The platform is set up with a banner over it and a mic stand on top. In the center of the photograph is the entry booth where everyone will buy their chips and drink tickets. It looks better than anything they’ve ever had at one of these events. Professional, even. 

Louis (10:23am): _ wicked! well done  _

Harry (10:24am):  _ :) _

Harry (10:24am):  _ Anything else I can do? _

Louis (10:26am):  _ just get ready to party your face off mate _

Harry (10:26am):  _ You know I’m in a fraternity, right? _

Louis (10:28am):  _ so? _

Harry (10:29am):  _ So I’m always ready to party my face off. _

Louis (10:34am):  _ no one goes hard like the OLC during fundraiser time _

Harry (10:35am):  _ I can’t wait to see!  _

Harry (10:35am):  _ :) _

Harry (10:37am):  _ What time are you going to be there? _

Louis (10:44am):  _ about an hour before it starts. probably 6pm _

Harry (10:46am):  _ Can’t wait!  _

Harry (10:47am):  _ For the event as a whole, it sounds like it’s going to be a great time.  _

Louis (10:49am):  _ haha yeah _

Louis (10:51am): _ don’t forget to dress up _

Harry (10:52am):  _ I’ve got my outfit ready to go!  _

Louis (10:53am):  _ bet you’ll look great _

Louis (10:54am):  _ *it’ll _

Louis (10:54am): _ i mean, i’m sure you and it will both look great _

Harry (10:57am):  _ Haha, yeah it’ll be different than my normal day to day. Always nice to dress up.  _

Harry (10:59am):  _ I’ve got to help my Little with something. See you later! _

Louis has to physically shake himself out of it before he starts revising again. He’s never felt so awkward in his life. 

He spends most of the day double checking they’ve got their chips and cards in order, and calling the vendors to make sure they’ll be there at the designated time. They were able to get a taco truck to set up outside of the library and donate 15% of their proceeds to the OLC. 

All in all, Louis couldn’t be happier with how its turning out. 

He pretends to think about what he’s going to wear, but he’s been pulled incessantly to the same shirt over and over again over the last few weeks. It’s one of the shirts he bought from Second Chances over two months ago now, one that he’d shoved back into the plastic back and under his wardrobe and thought he’d never wear.

It’s not his normal style at all; a soft, silk, cream-colored button down, with little clear buttons. It looks like there’s a slight crease on the upper sleeve of it, like it was kept rolled up. 

Louis pairs it with a pair of the newer black jeans and the somewhat-too-fancy blue and cream bomber jacket with a tiger and hawk printed on the front of it. His hair is pulled back (his take on a quiff, which he’s sort of swirled at the front). He even cleaned his Converse so the white bits look almost like new again. 

He looks good, he thinks. Like he could be running a big fundraising event (as he is). 

He heads out as soon as he’s ready. He’s there to help finish setting the room up about an hour and a half before the event starts. At just about an hour before go-time, Harry shows up, and automatically smiles at Louis before freezing in place. 

Harry’s eyes roam down the length of Louis’ body from his head to his toes. Louis shivers. Okay, he must look  _ really _ good, then. He’s more than pleased with that.

Smoothing the side of his hair down, he waves at Harry with his other hand and starts walking over to him. Harry looks ridiculous. He’s in an electric blue suit, with pants that are tight all along his thick thighs and then flare out at the knee. The suit jacket looks a little big on him, but in a fashion way, not because he bought the wrong size (like Louis tends to). Under is a white shirt scooped so low that Louis can see his bird tattoos at his collarbones and the hint of another in the center of his chest. 

He looks ridiculous. 

Gorgeously ridiculous. 

Who knew Harry even had clothes that looked like that?

Who knew Harry looked like that. 

Fuck. 

“Curly,” Louis nods at him, trying to cover all his feelings. 

Harry seems to come out of it just as Louis says his nickname. He smiles again and runs a hand through his hair. “Louis,” he says. “You look lovely.”

That...is not what he was expecting. It might not even be what Harry was expecting to say, based on the way his eyes go a little wide. Louis can’t hide the heat that spreads up his neck to his cheeks. He nods and mumbles a thanks. 

Harry coughs into his hand. “So, what can I do?”

Louis looks around, just to look away from Harry for a moment. Before he can say anything, he hears his name being called. 

“Louis!” Niall shouts, coming barreling into him, nearly knocking him over. 

Automatically, it seems, Harry reaches out a hand to grip onto Louis’ upper arm to steady him. When he’s solid on his own to feet, Niall pulling him back up with hands on his waist over his jacket. Louis feels the warmth around his arm gone quickly, and when he looks back at Harry, his hands are behind his back. 

“Please don’t break my neck, Niall, I’m running this show.”

Niall scoffs. “I’d never break your neck, would only maybe get you roughed up a little. Can’t say you’re not used to that.”

Harry clears his throat. 

“And H!” Niall says, and goes in for a quick hug, which Harry seems a bit surprised by. “What are you doing here, man?”

“I, uh—”

“Harry’s been a big help with this,” Louis cuts in, gesturing around them. “He’s done loads of things for the OLC. He helped build the platform and basically built the entire front booth himself.”

Harry shakes his head in protest, but looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile. It makes Louis’ chest feel light and warm. 

“Really, Harry, you’ve been such a help, we wouldn’t be looking this good if it weren’t for you.”

He positively lights up. Which makes Louis want to keep throwing compliments at him. He’s about to do just that when Niall pulls on Louis’ jacket to see his silk top a little better. 

“Speaking of looking good, you look killer, mate!”

“Thanks, Nialler,” Louis says, punching him on the arm. And then he looks to Harry, remembers he’s supposed to be dating Niall and throws his arms around Niall’s neck. 

Niall rubs a hand in a few circles on his back. “This one’s all about the cuddles,” he says conspiratorially to Harry. And then he tugs at the material of the bomber jacket again and says, “This looks familiar, actually. Have you worn this before?”

Harry makes a kind of choked out sound and then turns it into coughing into his elbow. Niall asks if he’s okay and Harry just nods. 

Louis pulls away from Niall and takes a step back to get some distance from the two of them. Hugging Niall was his move, but now that Niall made a boyfriend-appropriate comment, it feels wrong. Like he’s actually lying now. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he’s meant to be doing with all of this. 

He’s got himself into a right mess. 

Niall claps his hands and rubs them together. “Alright maestro, where do you need me?”

“Right so, uh, we need someone to be in charge of music; Zayn was supposed to do it, but didn’t realize he was scheduled to work tonight. Then also someone to do rounds and check in with all the dealers to see if they need anything, since they’ll be at their posts for a bit. And I think we still need someone to be a bartender of sorts for the first hour, while Jesy and Jade mingle and make sure everything is in order. ”

“Bartender!” Niall practically shouts, throwing one arm up in the air and then swiftly turning around and walking straight towards the make-shift bar. 

Louis shakes his head and laughs, looking after him. When he meets Harry’s eyes, he’s smiling, but something seems a little off. 

“Guess that leaves music and dealer-checker,” Louis says. 

“Which one would be most helpful?”

Louis furrows his brows. Why does he have to be so considerate all the goddamn time. 

“I guess music, since I’ll probably be the best person to check in with the dealers if they actually do need anything.”

Harry nods. “Any no-gos?”

“I’d stick to pop and rock, in general, to keep the vibe up, but just do your best to read the crowd. I trust you.”

Harry’s eyes nearly roll back into his head, closing automatically as he shutters. 

“Woah, mate, are you okay?”

Harry nods, sort of in a trance and keeps his eyes closed. “Sorry I —uh— I just sort of missed the last bit there. Could you say it again?”

Louis speaks slowly and a little cautiously. “Uh, read the crowd? For the music? If it seems like people want to dance around a little, more upbeat stuff, but if people are doing a lot of talking, maybe some indie jams.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry shakes his head slightly, like that wasn’t it. 

Fully speaking in questions now, Louis continues. “And, uh, I guess just, use your best judgement? I trust you?” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow further and lets out a sad little puff of air. He’s leaning forward a little. Louis’ instinct is to step up to him to make sure he doesn’t fall (he’s seen Harry trip over his own two feet more than a few times) but he stays where he is. Who knows what will happen if Louis hooks onto his scent, it’s too early in the night for that. 

“Harry?” Louis asks gently. No response. “Curly?”

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes flick open, wide and a little surprised. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry. I think I— I think maybe I’m not— it’s just that I haven’t eaten a lot today. So I might go grab a protein bar or something from my car. Yeah. And then I’ll. I’ll come back and do the music.”

Louis doesn’t have time to answer before Harry’s turned around and walked out of the room. 

Well that was weird. And also a little hot, the way his face pulled together. Louis knows it was probably just the hunger, like Harry said, but he can’t help wondering if he’d look the same if he was overwhelmed in some way (in a sexy way, ideally). 

Louis sighs and goes to find Jesy to confirm everything is ready to go. 

Two hours later and the event is in full swing. Niall was having so much fun playing bartender that he volunteered to spend another hour there, so long as he could have a few drinks himself. He’s done more than enough to help Louis over the last semester especially, so he agrees and reminds himself to donate an extra twenty quid next semester to even it out. 

Harry’s doing great with the music. He seems to know just when people want some Brittney and when they’re ready to mix it up with a little Fleetwood Mac. He’s also charming and always surrounded by at least three omegas under the guise of song requests. Louis is not jealous, obviously, but he does check on Harry twice as often as he does with any other volunteer. 

Louis gets caught up making the rounds for another hour, restocking cups and playing chips and taking quick photos to post on the OLC online forum. He completely misses Niall and Harry sitting alone at the same blackjack table, each holding two cards. 

There’s a cute girl dealing there. She’s got long black hair pulled up into a ponytail and freckles sprinkles across her nose and cheekbones. She keeps smiling at Niall, squinting like she doesn’t believe he’s real. 

Niall is looking at her and leaning in a lot. Even from where he is, Louis can see the wink he gives her. He can also see the angry look on Harry’s face. 

Fuck. 

Louis walks quickly over to their table, and starts to tune into their conversation. 

“— you doing?”

Niall looks a little confused. “Playing blackjack mate. Or maybe it’s playing me, I’ve got shit cards.” He turns to watch the dealer laugh at his joke and smile coquettishly down at the cards she’s shuffling. 

“What about Louis?”

Niall laughs. “What about Louis?”

“What would he think if he saw you flirting right now?”

“Probably,  _ I know Niall is being charming and respectful because he values women more than any other man I know.  _ And also  _ he sure does know how to show someone a good time if they’re into that sort of thing _ .”

Harry scoffs. “Are you actually using your boyfriend as a means of flirting with another person?”

The dealer looks surprised as she looks over at Niall. Harry looks pissed off, having set his hand of cards down on the table in front of him to turn fully to Niall. 

Niall looks confused and amused as he says, “Boyfriend?”

Louis comes up to them just then, looking between all of them. Is it too late to save it?

“Hi! Is everyone having fun? Boy, this sure is a busy night isn’t it. Lots of people. A good turnout. We’ve raised quite a bit of money so far. It’s been great. Love that for the OLC. Gonna make next year even easier to get some funding.”

The girl looks up at him, cards frozen in her hands. Niall is looking at him like he could burst out laughing and Harry is sending daggers into the side of Niall’s head with his eyes. 

“Lou, Harry thinks we’re dating, can you imagine?”

Louis winces. Apparently his silence in answer enough and Harry turns to look at him, wavering a little in his anger. 

“Haha,” Louis says, scrambling for something to say that saves him. 

Nothing comes. 

Niall’s face slowly fades away from a smile and looks back and forth between him and Harry. “Uh, did I miss something?”

Louis shakes his head no quickly. “No, nothing to miss. We’re all just having a good time, aren’t we.” He looks up to the girl, reads her name tag quickly and asks, “Ashley, do you need anything? Water or a new pack of cards?”

Hearing her name calls her back out of it and she starts shuffling again. “No, I’m all set, I think. Thanks.”

Louis nods and points a thumb over his shoulder. “Great, yeah, I’m going to do another round then. Niall, what do you think about bartending again? I think Jade may need a break. She doesn’t have your stamina for charisma.” 

“Louis, did you tell Harry we were dating?” Niall asks. His voice is soft, like Louis might break at the sound of it.

“No,” Louis says emphatically. 

“ _ No? _ ” Harry says. Nearly cries out. 

“Well I didn’t  _ say  _ it,” he says weakly. 

“Why?” Niall asks. 

And Louis panics. 

“Actually you know what, I’m feeling kind of poorly,” he says in a rush. “Think I might go home maybe. Yeah. I’m going to just run and tell someone and then I’m going to go home. Home will be good. Bye!”

And he turns and rushes to where Jesy is at the front booth. “I’m not feeling well,” he blurts out. 

She looks startled. “You were alright a few minutes ago, what happened?”

“Not sure. Feeling poorly. I have to go.”

Back at the blackjack table, Niall and Harry are standing in front of their seats. Harry’s arms are crossed over his chest and Niall is gesticulating a little dramatically, like he does when he’s buzzed. He looks like he’s explaining something. Louis doesn’t want to think about what it is. 

“Yeah, okay Lou, feel better,” Jesy says, but he barely hears her because he’s turned and speed-walked out the door and over to his dorm. 

Nearly all omegas on campus are at the OLC event, so his dorm is quiet. He’s thankful for it as he starts crying when he walks into his building. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, really, but it all feels like too much. 

When he gets inside his room he strips himself of his clothes, and flings them onto his bed before pulling his night shirt on. It feels like something is missing though, like he needs to be surrounded by soft things. 

He starts piling all of his clothes (ones that were strewn about the room haphazardly, on the floor, on his desk, over the side of his wardrobe) onto his mattress. He gets on top of them and pulls the duvet up so he’s snuggled in. 

Curling up into the material, he realizes he’s trying to smell them, get some sort of relief from them, which is more than confusing, but he’s not thinking clearly at the moment. 

He can’t even really smell anything, but some of the clothes smell more like whatever his body is looking for than others. 

One by one he tosses clothes off the side of the bed that don’t give him anything, and buries himself further into the ones that comfort his picky nose. 

Once he’s surrounded by only the clothes that tamp down this panic inside of them, he breathes out a big sigh. He starts to fall asleep just as he realizes he’s enveloped in his thrift shop clothes. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the end of this chapter has characters talking about emotional abuse. If this is triggering for you, let me know and I can tell you were to stop reading and summarize for you!

“He’s my best mate and we’re definitely not dating,” Niall is saying to him. “I’ve known him since we started uni and I love him to bits, but I’m not in love with him, and he’s definitely not in love with me, I can tell you that for sure.”

“Then why would he lie?”

Niall makes a little squinted face at the air beside Harry’s head. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” 

“How?”

Niall takes a deep breath and sits back down in his chair. Harry stays standing. 

“So, first year, right? We were instant best mates. That first month we spend every free moment together. He’s a right laugh and really caring; has always helped me revise in any course I was working on, even Economics, which he had absolutely no knowledge of or interest in. Think he hated it more than I did.” He laughs. 

Harry nods, urging him on. 

“A couple months in, he meets this guy, this alpha. His name was Trevor and he was a music business major. Loved talking about the music industry. And Lou loves talking music, so they really hit it off. But then...I didn’t see Lou for nearly four months —not more than in passing— because Trevor’d acted like Louis wasn’t allowed to have any other friends. Said he’d missed him too much when he was away. Even Louis having a job was too much and Trevor would stay outside of the library for hours waiting for his shift to be over.”

Niall clears his throat, looks like he’s shaking something out of his mind. 

“Anyway, he turned out to be a right dick. I don’t know the details, but he’d basically fucked Lou over with touch, kept him on the edge of depri all the time. And when Louis finally got himself out of it, Trevor snapped and called him a bunch of names, said he wasn’t worth anything, threw out all of Louis’ stuff that was at Trevor’s apartment. Was just real nasty like.”

Niall shakes his head again and seems to get lost in thought a little. 

To say Harry is horrified is an understatement. 

“Is he still here?”

Niall looks confused for a moment before his eyes light up in understanding. “No, Trevor transferred out. Lou had filed something with the school, I think, but he was gone before the administration could look into it.”

_ Good _ , Harry thinks. Harry isn’t a violent person, but he knows he’d go searching for him immediately to beat the ever-loving shit out of him. 

“Do you… do you think that’s why he lied? He thought I was gonna be like him?”

Niall looks sympathetic, and then the look in his eyes turns a bit mischievous. “Ooo, H, have we got a crush on Louis, maybe?”

Harry looks down at his feet and drops his crossed arms to his side. He sighs. There’s no use hiding it, not when he knows now that Louis isn’t dating Niall. Isn’t dating anyone. “Yeah. I really… I really like him. And I thought he was taken so I didn’t push.” 

Niall looks thoughtful. “He had said you were spending a lot of time with each other. Lou just hasn’t dated in years now. I thought there might have been something in October, but he never brought it up and denied when I did, and that doesn’t really match with your timeline.” 

Harry sighs again. “This isn’t any better. He clearly doesn’t want to be with me, or he wouldn’t have lied.”

“You keep saying lied,” Niall says, a bit exasperated. “And I’m not saying he didn’t, but it just doesn’t fit quite right. Not with what he’s been through.” Harry shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe you should talk to him about it.”

“Yeah, probably.” 

“Hey, at the very least, Lou and I have standing plans every Sunday to watch horrible movies and eat pizza. You should join us! You won’t be allowed in his dorm, but I’ll ask him to come to my apartment instead. Or you could have us at your fancy frat house.”

“Maybe,” Harry says. 

Niall pats him on the shoulder. “You’ll be alright, mate.”

“Thanks, Ni.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if I can find the lovely Ashley again. Before that bit of drama I think she was proper interested in me.”

Harry smirks. “I think she was.”

“Off I run, then.”

And he’s on his own. He makes his way out of the library, with the intention of going back home. He’s stopped by Jesy, the president of the OLC and a few other members to thank him for his help. Then there’s an omega girl who asks if he wants to go and get some coffee with her, but he declines, saying he has to get going. She looks mildly disappointed, but he can’t really think of that right now. Not with all this new information about Louis. 

Louis. 

Louis who’s been through so much. And, not that Harry would expect Louis to tell him all of that, especially since they’ve only known each other a short while, he can’t help but feel a little hurt. Did Louis really think Harry could be that way? Would want to hole Louis up and make him suffer in depri?

He thinks of the diner and the milkshakes, the hopeful look in Louis’ eyes, the laughter when he came out of it. The feeling that Harry made him feel  _ better.  _

He pulls his phone out to text him as he walks. 

Harry [10:12pm]:  _ Can we talk? _

Harry [10:13pm]:  _ I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.  _

Harry [10:13pm]:  _ But I think we need to sort some things out.  _

Harry [10:14pm]:  _ Only when you feel okay, though.  _

Harry [10:14pm]:  _ Better.  _

Ten minutes later, and there’s no response from Louis. It makes him feel uneasy. Restless. Like he’s going out of his mind, wondering what he’s thinking and doing and feeling and how he can make Louis feel better, what he can do to prove himself. 

Harry’s a good alpha, he knows he is. He always thinks about his actions and how they could be perceived, always trying to make sure people (omegas especially) around him are comfortable. Always trying to be better. 

An intrusive thought pushes into his mind that he’s only good because he wants Louis to like him, wants him to feel comfortable around him, wants him to trust him. 

God, even when Louis said he trusted him earlier. It just… it  _ did something  _ to him. Made him feel like he was vibrating in ecstasy. That his omega that he has all these feelings for  _ trusts _ him. 

Fuck. Not his omega. Louis clearly doesn’t want to be his omega with the way he ran away, from the way he lied… or, wasn’t totally truthful with Harry, anyway. 

Harry’s a good alpha, he thinks. He could be a good alpha to Louis. He’s sure of it. Mostly sure. He helped him, didn’t he? Harry’s proven that he can be there for Louis; he helped him through his panic-attack thing. Talked him through his money troubles a bit. Even if it has only been a couple of months so far… he knows he can be there for him more, can be there for him better. 

Fuck, he feels like he’s going crazy in his own mind, trying to make sense of his situation. He just… fuck he just likes Louis so much, and now everything is turned on it’s head. He just wants to talk to Louis, hear why, know what he’s thinking. See if he’s feeling even partially the same thing Harry is. 

Suddenly, he finds himself at Turner Hall, Louis’ dorm. It’s a walk he’s taken once before, after their first tutoring session. Before Harry found out that Louis had a boyfriend, which wasn’t true. Had he been right that day, then? Had Louis felt those same things?

Someone comes out through the door, texting and not paying attention. Before he can think about what he’s doing, Harry rushes over and sticks his foot in the door to keep it open just before it closes.

Is he really about to do this? Break into a dorm that doesn’t allow alphas, just to talk to Louis. 

_ He ran away _ , Harry thinks.  _ He doesn’t want to talk to you.  _

_ But what if he does,  _ he thinks.  _ What if he just doesn’t know how to say it.  _

He opens the door and walks into the dorm. For a moment, he thinks it doesn’t matter if Louis does or doesn’t want to talk to him, there’s no way he’ll find him in a building this size. 

But then his scent comes to him, leads him further down the hallway. Harry has a passing thought that it feels a little creepy to be actually tracking him. On the other hand, it feels like it means something, that he can smell him through so many levels. 

He goes up through the elevator, because that’s where the scent leads him. It’s a little weak in here and it’s definitely Louis, but it smells different than normal. Maybe it’s just diluted with other scents. Maybe it feels a bit sadder. 

Standing in front of a door, there’s no way he can know that’s it’s Louis’, but he does. He smells lemon rind and blood orange, a hint of something he can’t quite place. Christ, it smells so good. But no,  _ no,  _ no. Now is not the time. He’s here to talk. Just to see if Louis will talk to him. Explain that he’s not angry with him, just confused. He’ll tell Louis how he feels. He’ll tell him and let him sleep on it. He’ll tell him and text him in the morning. 

He knocks. 

It takes a full minute, but Harry hears rustling on the other side so he knows Louis is there. He waits. His heart is thrumming in his chest and he keeps twisting his rings from the anticipation of it all. 

When Louis opens the door, it’s all Harry can do not to drop to his knees in awe. 

He’s in his shirt. 

That’s not really new, but it’s a shirt Harry hasn’t seen him wearing before. It’s his old KISS t-shirt, so worn and the lettering is faded so you can barely read it. On the back, he knows it says Hot-N-Hard, and Harry’s having a hard time not becoming just that. 

Louis’ face is a little red, and there’s a pillow crease on the side of his face. He’s barefoot, rubbing one foot up the back of his calf. He looks beautiful. And very surprised.

“Harry,” Louis says. It’s no more than a breath. Harry whimpers and leans forward to get more of his scent, all words forgotten. 

It’s like he’s stepped into a lemon grove, surrounded, embraced in the citrus scent. It’s so strong, got him aching in his tight pants. All consuming, Harry can barely keep himself from going straight in to lick and bite all over Louis neck. Subconsciously, his hand goes to his thigh, running it up towards his groin. 

Louis’ eyes flicker down to the movement, looking even more surprised now than seeing Harry in the first place. 

Harry stops moving his hand, even though it physically hurts not to touch himself. He takes a step back and breathes through his mouth. 

“I just —fuck, I’m sorry. I just came to wreck you. Check! Check on you! Make sure you were alright. And I just wanted to see if we could talk sometime soon. Mmm wanna… uh… I wanna talk to you. But I want you to feel safe so, I’m going to go. But I—”

And then Louis’ pulling him in, grasping at the back of his neck, and kissing him hard.

It’s heaven. 

It’s citrus-y, lovely heaven. 

_ Louis.  _

Harry’s arms wrap all the way around his body to pull Louis closer, and he breathes in deep through his nose. It’s earthy and warm, basked in sunshine and encased in sweetness. He can’t stop the growl he lets out because it’s so different, to have him this close, to be breathing him in like this. He breaks the kiss to nose down to his neck, get him where he smells the strongest. 

Louis whines and pulls Harry in closer by the small of his back. Even when they’re flush together, even when there isn’t a hair’s worth of space between them, he keeps pulling him in, starting to walk backwards into the room. 

When they’re all the way inside, Louis removes one of his hands from Harry’s back to shut the door. Harry hears a click of the automatic lock as he licks a stripe from the omega’s collarbone to the shell of his ear in happiness, while Louis grabs a fistful of hair and twirls it around his fingers. 

Harry kisses him again as Louis pulls him further into the room, beckoning Harry to move with him until Louis’ legs hit the back of the bed. He tries to fall backwards, but Harry keeps them upright. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they get horizontal. 

Kissing him on the side of his mouth, down his jaw, until his at his neck again, Harry murmurs, “ _ You smell so good _ ,” into his skin.

Louis lets out a moan. “You too,” he says. Harry lets out a half-moan, half-cry, open mouthed at his jaw while his hands move down to Louis’ waist. His body is so small, covered in all that fabric.  _ Harry’s  _ clothing. Like Louis is already his. 

_ He is _ , his alpha thinks.  _ Mine. _

“I want you,” Louis says, whispers to his temple like a promise. 

“Ugh, yeah Lou, want you, too. Want you so bad. Drove me crazy that I couldn’t have you.”

Louis bucks his hips forward, trying to find friction between them.

“Take me, please, I want you.”

Harry has an inkling that they should talk first. 

_ But why? Why would they talk when they can do so many more glorious things with their mouths.  _

“Should we talk?” Harry asks anyway. 

“No,” Louis says, and kisses him again. 

“Sure?” He checks one more time. Even in this state, nearly blinded by lust, he needs to make sure this feels as right for Louis as it does for him. 

_ “Later.” _

Well. If Louis says. 

He lets Louis’ body fall back, letting himself gently tilt with the movement. He’s hovering over him, one elbow holding him up while his other hand’s still touching him everywhere he can, everywhere he wants, because now he knows Louis wants it to. 

“What do you want, Lou?” 

“Fuck me.”

Harry gasps and groans into his mouth. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I’ll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want.”

“Give me your cock. I want you inside of me, Harry.”

Hearing his name, breathing in Louis scent, it all is so overwhelming after so long without it. Harry can’t help but grind down against him.

“Okay, I can do that. Wanna do other stuff first, though.”

“Like what?”

“Like get my mouth on every inch of skin you let me.” Louis cries out, grips Harry’s hair harder and moves to suck a love bite against his jaw. “Yeah? You like that, Lou? Like the idea of me tasting every bit of you? I’ll never stop then, just keep licking. Even when you come, I won’t stop. Get you hard again and make you come again. Won’t stop until you beg me to.”

“Christ,” Louis gasps as he goes to rub himself with one of his palms, but Harry just grabs his wrist and holds it down to the mattress beside his head. He whines at it. “The mouth on you, Harry, you’re gonna kill me.”

Harry falters. “Is it— is it too much?”

Louis makes eye contact with him for the first time since they kissed. He does a slow sensual roll of his hips up to hump against where Harry finds they’re both hard. “What do you think?”

The alpha feels a zip of confidence run through him. 

“I think you like it, baby,” Harry says, maintaining eye contact. 

Louis eyes flutter shut at the pet name. Harry notes that and leans down to kiss him sloppily while they hump against each other. 

Harry smooths his palm up and intertwines their fingers together just above Louis head. Louis responds with a tight grip, opening his mouth more so Harry can fuck his tongue in. 

They’re already so messy and uncoordinated, skin on fire with pleasure. He wants to give Louis more. 

He kisses down his chest and pulls himself up on his knees, taking away the pressure from both of their groins, which has Louis whimpering in the most beautiful way. God he loves him. 

Harry falters with a kiss at Louis hip, through the fabric of the t-shirt.

Fuck. 

Fuck, he loves Louis. 

Harry’s still in the middle of his realization when Louis bucks his hips up and whines again as his clothed cock hits Harry on the chin. It pulls him out of it enough to center himself. He breaks out in a wide smile. 

He loves Louis. He’s in love with Louis. And he’s absolutely giddy with it. 

Louis squeezes his hand hard. “Harry.”

He wants to tell him. Right now he wants to say it. 

But fuck they’re about to have sex. They  _ just _ kissed for the first time. They still have so much to talk about. They’ve only known each other for a few months. He can’t say it right now. 

At least, not with his words. 

“Harry,” Louis says again, thrusting up. 

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you.” He pulls both of his hands down to the hem of Louis shirt. Harry’s old shirt. He looks so good in his clothes. Louis should never wear anything else, should always be in his clothes or naked. 

The latter sounds good right now. 

He slowly pulls the hem of his shirt up his thighs to reveal blue and green plaid boxer briefs. They hug his thighs deliciously and show the curve of hard, straining cock. Before Harry can get the shirt any higher, Louis’ hands stop him. 

They make nervous eye contact. “We don’t have to do anything, Lou,” Harry says, before Louis can get lost in his own head. 

Louis nods. “I want to. But I just...could I… can we leave my shirt on?”

Harry’s inner alpha wants to protest, wants to see every bit of bare skin of his omega, but Harry pushes past it and agrees. “Of course, if that’s what you want.”

Louis nods again, eagerly. “It is. But I still want it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Want you.”

Harry abandons the fabric of the shirt around his hips and looks up at his omega, licking his lips as Louis arches his back so that his pelvis raises up. Harry moans and licks a stripe up the underside of his clothed cock. 

Louis whimpers, moving his feet up on the bed so his legs are open in a V, with just enough space for Harry. Harry loves that. Loves him. 

Harry’s just about to peel off those briefs when Louis shakes his head and jerks his chins up at Harry.

“You first,” he says. 

Harry smiles, kneeling over him as he shrugs off his suit jacket and whips it over the side of the bed. He starts pulling his shirt out of his trousers, and Louis starts working on the buttons at his waist. 

He has to pause to watch Louis nimble fingers work and shift the fabric, so close to his cock. It’s getting him hotter, imagining those hands finally wrapped around him. He’s been having this fantasies about Louis for months, it’s hard to believe he’s actually here and under him now. 

Louis undoes all the buttons and shifts the fabric down to get it over his hips. Harry finishes getting his white shirt off and throws it to the side as well. Unfortunately he has to get off the bed to get his trousers down, but it’s worth it for the sight of Louis rubbing himself through his pants as he watches Harry. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry says, because he can’t say what he really wants to. 

Louis keeps a lock on their eyes and he moans at the words. Harry feels his cock twitch in his pants and he goes to take those off as well. 

When he does, Louis’ eyes widen, his mouth drops open and he slicks up a little more. Harry’s nostrils flare out as he takes another whiff.

“You’re big,” Louis says. “Fuck, really big. Is that even going to fit in me?”

“It will,” Harry says confidently, making his way over to the bed. “And if it doesn’t we don’t have to do that. I don’t mind.”

A look of determination passes over Louis’ face. “It will.”

God, that’s hot. 

Harry climbs back onto the bed and grabs firmly at the side of his omega’s neck and kisses him deeply and maybe a little too rough, but Louis just whines gloriously into his mouth, more slick seeping into his pants.

Louis hand moves off of his own clothed cock and makes a loose fist around Harry’s shaft, pumping up and down slowly. Harry thrusts a little into the hold and kisses him again. 

After only a minute, Harry has to remove Louis hand from him. It sounds like Louis is going to protest, so he interrupts with, “Baby, you’re so hot. Getting me all hot. There are so many things I want to do to you. Can I?”

“Yeah, Harry, please do something.”

“I am, baby, I am.” And to prove it, he rolls Louis pants down his thighs and helps Louis lift his legs to get them off. All of a sudden, it’s like Louis scent doubles around him. It’s satisfying and infuriating in the way that Harry could come right in this instance, without even touching himself. The only thing that has him holding off is sheer force of will, knowing he wants to make it good for Louis. He wants to be good for Louis. 

“Shit, you’re just so fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah baby. Fuck, so sexy. I can’t even pick what I want to do to you first.” He humps down as he sucks a love bite to the bit of skin just below his collarbone.

“Start with what you want to do most.”

“That’s just it, I want to do all of them immediately.”

“Start with what you think I want the most, then.” Louis flutters his eyelashes and looks up at him coyly. It’s clearly a move. Harry falls for it hook, line and sinker. 

_ What does Louis want the most?  _

To feel safe. To feel cared for. To be independent. To make his own way. 

Harry thinks he might have a good start. 

“How would you feel about me eating you out?”

It’s clearly not what Louis’ expecting, because he cries out and tilts his head back, humping back down into the duvet. 

Harry’ll take that as a yes. 

“Turn over for me, baby.”

Louis keens high in his throat and turns himself over so his arse is up and waiting for Harry. 

He dips down and doesn’t waste any time breathing out over the sensitive skin, teasing him a little. Louis squirms. “Let me know what you need, baby. I’m going to lick you out until you tell me to stop.”

Harry takes his time, skimming a thumb along the crack before tugging at it to look at his little hole. It’s clenching around nothing. Harry’s going to be  _ inside  _ of there. He moans at the thought, and lets go of Louis’ cheek to watch it jiggle. 

“Fuck, your arse. Best arse I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe I’m gonna make you come.”

Louis humps forward and then thrusts back, lifting his bum off the bed, fully presenting now. Harry skims his hands from his cheeks and follows the curve of his back to his waist before moving back down and squeezing two handfuls of his arse again. 

Without warning, Harry holds him open, leans down, and swipes the broadside of his tongue over Louis’ rim. It elicits the most beautiful sound from his omega, so Harry does it again the same exact way twice more before leaning further in to suck against the skin instead. 

Slick drips out steadily, right into Harry’s mouth, and this is definitely the best thing that’s ever happened to him in his entire life. Louis tastes like drinking lemonade on a hot summer day. 

“So sweet for me,” Harry murmurs into his skin. 

Louis bucks forward into the mattress at it. “Harry,” he whimpers.

“So lovely, so sweet,” Harry says, and then dives right back in. 

It’s so hot, but also the culmination of everything Harry’s ever wanted. Someone to love, who wants him back. Someone he can make feel good, both in bed and out of it. Someone smart and funny and tough who holds their own but who also wants Harry to take care of them. It’s all in the boy beneath his hands, under his tongue, inside his heart. 

He moans, and it must make it better for Louis because his own moan back is resounding and slightly impatient. 

He’s so strong here, dripping so heavily now that Harry can’t even catch all of it on his tongue, some rolling down his chin to the sheets below them. He moves to nuzzle at his balls, lick a stripe from them all the way to the bottom of his spine. 

The sounds Louis is making are just… they’re an otherworldly kind of good. Like the best song. Harry wants to put it on repeat, never listen to another thing for the rest of his life. 

“So fucking hot, Lou. Like you could burn me. But you won’t because I love the heat.”  _ Because I love you.  _

“I need something inside of me,” his omega gasps out. 

Harry loves that. Licks over his rim and sucks there again. 

Suddenly there’s a hand yanking his face away by the sharp grip on his hair. 

“Hey,” he says, nipping at the rounded flesh of Louis’ arse because it’s close. He’s about to dive in again when Louis gets a tighter hold and squeezes. 

“Styles, if you don’t get something inside of me in the next 5 seconds I’m going to kick you out.” He lets go, but keeps looking over his shoulder at Harry. 

“So bossy,” Harry says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He swipes his tongue over his hole again, and just as it looks like Louis is about to start yelling, Harry pushes his middle finger inside of him, which has the wonderful consequence of watching Louis’ eyes roll back into his head as he moans. 

“Yes,” he hisses out. 

Harry licks around his finger as he pumps in and out. “Yeah baby, let me hear it.”

“Fuck yes, Harry, feels so good. Give—ah! Give me another one.” Louis’ already pushing back, impaling himself further on his one finger. Harry adds another quickly. He has a feeling he’ll never be able to deny Louis anything. “Ye-eh-eh-esss,” he says, pushing himself back, gripping the sheets beneath him. 

His shirt has pulled up with all the friction of Louis’ abdomen against the bed. Harry can see his soft tummy, and the muscle underneath as he tries to push himself back. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Louis, every single bit of you.”

“Another,” Louis gasps out, and Harry adds a third finger, trying to keep the same pace. 

He pulls away to watch Louis’ face as he crumbles from all the pleasure, occasionally leaning down to kiss or suck at the skin around his thighs. Every emotion is radiating off of Louis through his scent, and every thought is passing over his face. Harry’s never felt like he knows him better than in this moment. It’s glorious. He wants so much more of this, already can’t wait to do it again. 

“Oh god, Harry I’m gonna! I’m gonna come if you! If you don’t stop now.”

He looks over his shoulder and they lock eyes again as Harry reaches around with his unoccupied hand to grab hold of Louis’ cock, pumping a few times. 

“I’ll just make you come again,” the alpha says.

And just like that, Louis comes, groaning out with such force, like his orgasm is taking him by surprise. 

Harry works him through it, slowing both of his hands to a softer rhythm, feeling the sensation of Louis’ come sliding along his skin. He stops when Louis brings his own hand down to still him, breathing hard. 

“Fuck,” he says, laughing. Harry grins at him, pulling his hands away, but Louis catches the one that wanked him, brings it up to his mouth, and starts licking at it. Licking the come off of it. 

Louis moans a little as sucks on Harry’s pointer finger, the one coated with most of his orgasm. If Harry wasn’t rock-hard before, he certainly is now. 

He crawls up, and Louis twists underneath him so he’s laying on his back again. Louis adjusts his t-shirt so it’s pulled down to his hips before bringing his hands up to caress the alpha’s face and neck. 

They kiss for a couple of minutes before Louis’ hand travels down down down to grab hold of Harry’s cock. The alpha can’t help but thrust forward a few times, pushing it through Louis’ loosely circled fist. 

“Mmm that knot,” Louis says, rubbing over where it’s starting to swell. “Wanna feel it inside of me.” 

“Fuck,” Harry pants. “Do you…?”

“Yeah, want you to. You said you’d make me come again, Harry, make me come from your knot.” 

Harry would be embarrassed by the noise be makes at that —all wanting, needing, begging— if Louis didn’t respond by kissing him even more fiercely. 

“Condom?” Harry pants out.

Louis falters, slowing his hand a bit. “Oh...I uh….”

“Oh.” Harry falters and stops his kiss, but then smiles down at him. “Okay, that’s okay, we don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Louis whines. It sends a sharp bolt of pleasure down Harry’s spine. 

“It’s okay, baby. There’s other ways we can have fun.”

“Oh! Fun!” Louis yells out, eyes wide. He’s leaning on his right, pulling himself up and over across his desk. His hips twist, applying delicious pressure against Harry’s groin. He can’t help but grind against him. It makes Louis work quicker, and a little more chaotically, stretching to reach a blue plastic cup. It spills over so two wrapped gummies and one condom tips out. “Aha!”

He wastes no time reaching up to pull Harry into another kiss, clutching the condom with his other hand. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asks against his mouth. 

“Yes, I want to. Put it in me, Harry, I want to feel you.” Louis is pushing against the small of Harry’s back, beckoning him closer, moving his hand down from his neck to pump the alpha’s erection again. 

“If you’re sure,” Harry’s voice is strained.

Louis just kisses him again, open-mouthed and panting. 

Harry grabs ahold of himself between his legs while Louis fumbles with unwrapping the condom. He rips it open on the fourth try and starts eagerly rolling it down Harry’s length. He has to bite his lip and look away from Louis’ hands to hold himself back from coming right there. 

When it’s on, Louis wraps his legs around the alpha’s hips, pulling him in. Harry teases Louis’ rim with the tip of his cock a few times, just to see the way it makes Louis gasp, and try to pull him in closer, before pushing his cock in. 

Its…

God, it’s everything. 

He moves so slowly, in tune with Louis’ face and his scent, trying to detect any point of pain, but all he can feel is  _ wantwantwant _ . 

When Harry’s in, all but his knot tucked inside of Louis, Harry checks on his omega. “You okay?” 

Louis has his eyes closed and is nodding. “Yeah. Just need a moment.”

Harry’s cock is begging him to move, but he just lays still on top of Louis, petting his hair, memorizing his face like this. He didn’t know love could feel this way, so all encompassing. Like it makes up the entire universe, like it makes up every cell in his body. 

“Move,” Louis says, opening his eyes. So blue. So perfect. 

Harry rolls his hips steadily, working up to a faster rhythm only when Louis starts eliciting some truly glorious sounds. Louis’ hands end up clutching Harry’s hair tightly, and Harry’s too close to the edge for his hands to be doing that, so he captures them both in one of his hands and holds them down above Louis’ head. 

It seems to spur Louis on more as he starts to grind down as best he can, trying to work Harry’s knot inside of him. Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, senses his omega is getting close, too. 

“You like being held down? Like feeling me like this?” Harry asks. 

“Yes, yeah, yes, fuck.” 

With his free hand, Harry thumbs over one of Louis’ nipples through the t-shirt. His omega cries out beautifully, so he moves down to mouth to lath over it with his tongue, making the material wet. 

“I’m so close, Harry, fuck.”

“Me too, baby.”

“Give it to me,” Louis pants out.

Harry moves up to kiss him again. It’s sloppy and too wet and the greatest. He picks up the pace. “I am, baby,” he says, “I’m gonna.”

He does everything he can to make it good —the best— for him. Rolls his hips more, deeper, tries to hit his prostate with every thrust inside of him. Kisses and nips at his jaw, licks up to the shell of his ear and marks his scent all over as his omega whimpers and sobs out and humps more ferociously. 

“Oh fuck, knot me,” Louis cries, “please, alpha, knot me.”

_ Alpha.  _

Harry shoves himself inside of Louis and buries his nose into the crook of Louis’ neck as his knot locks into place, coming so hard he sees stars. The sudden pressure of it makes Louis shoot off as well, coming untouched, wetness soaking into the shirt between them. 

They breathe heavily. Harry’s still got his omega’s hands pinned down above his head, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind, just sniffs idly at Harry’s curls and breathes. 

Harry laughs a little, kissing Louis then. 

“What?” Louis asks, laughing and kissing back. 

“That was… fuck it was just so good.” 

Louis laughs again and nods. “Yeah, it was.” And then he gets a little quiet, a little more serious. “And it...it wasn’t too weird?”

Harry pulls back to furrow his brows. He releases Louis’ hands, and goes to cup his cheek, rubbing a thumb back and forth. “What?”

The omega looks down at himself, a little bashful. “That I kept my clothes on. It wasn’t too weird?”

“Oh, Lou, no.” Harry kisses him again to prove it. “Want you to be comfortable. And you’re so hot in my— hot in anything you wear.”

Louis nods, but still looks pensive. Harry lets him have the moment, pulling Louis further into his chest and turning them so their on their sides so he’s not crushing Louis with his weight. 

It takes a little while, but his knot finally deflates and Harry pulls out, still keeping one arm firmly around Louis until he has to let go to tie the condom up and chuck it in the bin beside the bed. 

They’re comfortable, snuggled up so close in Louis’ small duvet.

Harry smiles and starts rubbing little circles along his omega’s back and scratching softly at his scalp. He holds him so close that he wonders if their bodies will meld together. He’s not opposed to the idea.

Louis nuzzles his cheek against Harry’s bare chest. “He used to say ugly things about my body,” he says. 

Harry freezes, stilling his movements, instinctively holding Louis a little tighter. 

“Niall told you...right?” Louis asks, voice full of hesitation. “He told you? About Trevor?”

He’s not sure what will make Louis feel better, but he nods because he wants to be honest with him, is ready to hear everything Louis wants to tell him. 

Louis sighs. Relief. Harry exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“He really liked my scent,” he says, “said he was drawn to it as soon as he smelled me, which made me feel great. You always hear those stories about alpha’s knowing their mate because of their scent. I felt special, made me think he saw me as long-term, in it for the long hall.” He sighs. “But then he’d make these off-hand comments about how my body was too big, too curvy. That he liked my scent but that the rest of me was a little too  _ much  _ for him.”

Harry closes his eyes. Can’t imagine Louis being too much. A lot, yes, but only in the best way. Never too much. Never, ever too much, not even one part of him. 

“We started out touching so much, too. I loved touching. Even  _ —mostly—  _ platonic touching. But he started pulling away. Kept himself at a distance. When he did touch me, it felt like a reward. Like I was good enough, like maybe he was learning to like my body. And I sort of loved that; it made me feel like I really deserved it, when he finally did touch me.”

Harry holds him impossibly closer. 

Louis laughs and it comes out a little strangled. “I guess I was a little dumb.”

“No, not dumb,” Harry says immediately. He stops himself there, because there are much more intense and violent things Harry wants to say, none of which will help right now.

“I thought I was in love with him, you know.” He sniffles. “The nice bits really were so nice.” Harry feels something wet against his shoulder where Louis is resting his head. “Zayn’s actually the one who snapped me out of it, you know.”

Harry’s palm rubs up and down his omega’s back again, trying to let Louis know it’s okay to continue or stop… whatever he wants. 

“He was in the library one day —I used to work in the library, did I tell you that? It’s because I can’t anymore that I’m even tutoring you.” He laughs and nuzzles his nose into Harry’s chest some more. 

“Zayn finished revising or whatever and stopped by to say hi, said that he hadn’t seen me in a while. And then Trevor comes in, sees Zayn and I chatting and he absolutely freaks out. Pulls me aside and starts this sort of whispered yelling, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make a scene or not. 

“He said I was flirting, which is ridiculous because it’s Zayn, we practically grew up together, and I love him but definitely not like that. I said as much and Trevor just wasn’t having it. He said he was going to wait outside for me, told me to grab my things and that I’d better be out in 2 minutes or he’d come in again. Nevermind that I still had an hour left of my shift. 

“I started gathering my stuff and Zayn just kept looking at me and looking at me. I sort of snapped at him, just kind of expecting him to back down. He’s usually not one for confrontation. But he just said,  _ ‘No one should ever talk to you like that, Lou. If you let it go along long enough, it’ll become the voice inside your own head’ _ .”

Louis shrugs. 

“I just ignored him and left. Trevor took me back to his apartment and yelled at me. I don’t even know how long, but it was a while.”

His omega breathes out, long and forlorn. 

“And I just kept thinking,  _ this is your fault, you know how he gets when you talk to other guys, this is why he doesn’t want to touch you _ . And it just hit me. His voice was already in my head, like Zayn had said.”

He sighs, and it comes out a bit shaky. 

“He wasn’t ever physical. But still I didn’t say anything to him right then. Because… well. Anyways, I stayed the night, didn’t sleep a wink, left for my lecture in the morning, and I texted him when I knew I could be in my dorm for a couple of days without leaving, and I told him it was over.”

Louis shrugs and nestles himself even closer into Harry’s chest. Harry almost isn’t able to let him with how tightly he’s clutching on to his omega. 

“He acted like I thought he might. He came over and demanded to be let into the building. Thankfully, no one let him. I called Zayn almost immediately, and he came down from his dorm and stayed with me in my room for a whole weekend while Trevor was apparently in the process of throwing out all of the shit I left at his place. I had some really nice stuff there, but it was worth it.” Quietly, almost to himself, he repeats, _ “It was worth it.” _

“It was almost the end of the spring semester,” Louis continues, “I just had to make it to finals and then I went home. He called and texted and tried to accost my friends, but I didn’t see him again before I left. When I came back in the fall, he was gone.”

They lay in their own thoughts for a few minutes. 

“I haven’t dated anyone since him,” Louis says. “Haven’t wanted to. But I also didn’t really feel like I knew who I was anymore. S’why it took me so long to change courses; I was stuck in it, I think. Only really felt comfortable at the end of last year.”

Harry feels Louis tilt his head up a bit, so he tilts his down to make eye contact. 

“Is that weird for you?” his omega asks, voice small.

Before it’s even fully out, Harry is shaking his head. “No, of course not, Lou. Never. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Louis brings his head back down and sighs into Harry’s chest. It’s not shaky this time. “It’s why I’ve still got my shirt on, I think. I— I’m definitely more comfortable with my body, and like, comfortable with you. But it’s just a lot to do all at once. Is that okay?”

“Anything you want, Lou. Always anything you want.”

Harry continues rubbing and lightly scratching up and down Louis’ back until his omega’s breath goes soft and even, his body lax with sleep. Harry spends his last few moments he’s awake softly kissing the top of Louis head and whispering promises into his hair. 


	10. Chapter 10

Louis wakes up plastered to Harry’s back. His right arm is threaded under his neck and his left arm is pulled up around the alpha’s chest, connecting his hands around him in a loose hug. Harry’s got a gentle but firm grasp on Louis wrists, holding them to his sternum. 

He preens and snuggles closer, putting his nose in Harry’s neck and breathing in deeply. He smells so strong and the whole room smells of sex. It’s the best. He’s missed this feeling. 

His inner omega is the happiest it’s been in years, feeling wanted and comforted. It wants him to be cuddly and soft, make the alpha pull him in closer and take care of him. Louis quite likes the sound of that, too. 

Harry snores in his sleep. It’s really cute. Little purrs mixed in with deep growls and huffs of breath. Louis wants to spend all day learning every sound he makes like this. Maybe longer. He wonders how long Harry could sleep for. Maybe he’d be up for spending the day in bed and napping together. It is Saturday, after all. 

He hears another sort of growling, mixed with a slight vibration against his hands. Harry’s stomach. The alpha must be hungry. 

Immediately, Louis starts to carefully untangle himself. While still asleep, the alpha protests a little, grasping at Louis’ wrists a bit tighter as he tries to pull away, making another little noise. (So good.)

Louis manages to slip out of the bed without too much trouble and he pulls on a pair of joggers he’s got draped over the arm of his desk chair before pulling his (come-covered) sleepshirt off, feeling okay since he’s covered in some way, but still keeping an eye on Harry, in case he decides to wake up. 

He notices Harry’s clothes on the floor from where he threw them the night before and pauses. Shrugging and smiling slightly to himself, he grabs the white scoop-necked t-shirt and puts it on. 

It’s too big on him, but most of his clothes are anyway. And it just feels… right. Louis feels happy and a little safer as he grabs his heavy winter coat, shoves on his trainers and quietly slips out of the room. 

It’s chilly outside, but Louis is tucked away inside his coat, smelling like his alpha and full of warm feelings. 

Oh, uh, not his alpha. 

Not yet anyway. They’d still need to talk about it, Louis supposes. 

He can’t stop smiling. 

Louis makes his way a few short blocks to his favourite little cafe. They’ve got chocolate croissants he thinks Harry will like. He’ll even get him one of those fancy coffees he sometimes gets after their tutoring sessions. Something with caramel maybe. 

Louis queues up and glances at the display case. It looks like they’ve got some other croissants today too, maybe he’ll get one of each, in case Harry’s not really one for chocolate. 

He doesn’t even know if Harry likes chocolate. He can’t wait to find out. 

He orders a tea, a salted caramel latte, and five different kinds of pastries. He spends the only 20 pounds his has left in his wallet, but he finds he doesn’t even really care. Having breakfast in bed with Harry will be worth it. 

He moves down to the edge of the counter to wait for his order. It’s almost the end of the semester, anyway, he reasons. And he has an extra 40 quid in his bank account from switching to a generic stabilizer for December. He’ll make it. 

And maybe if he and Harry decide to make it official, they can just spend all of their free time inside, instead. Kissing and breathing each other in. Maybe that’ll move to touching each other, platonically and  _ not  _ platonically. Harry’s giant hands roaming all over his body, pinning his hands down, mouthing all over his neck, maybe biting a little...

“Hey Lou,” someone says beside him, knocking him out of his little daydream. 

When Louis sees who it is, he grins wider. “Hey mate! It’s been a while,” he says. And he tilts his body a little to look at the bulky alpha hovering a bit behind Zayn. “And this is…?”

Zayn looks behind him, and pretends to look surprised. “Oh, right, Louis this is Liam.”

Louis leans over a bit and stretches out his hand as Liam does the same, and they shake. Liam’s eyes widen and he says, “Oh wow.”

Louis’ eyebrows go up a little and he lets out a puff of laughter. “Y’alright?”

Liam pulls his hand back and clears his throat a bit. “Um, yeah, totally alright. You just… nevermind.”

Zayn is looking at him curiously. 

“It’s nothing bad,” Liam says. 

“Okay?” Zayn says. 

“Really, it’s not—nothing.”

“It’s not nothing?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Are you attracted to Lou or summat?” Zayn says, always one for straightforwardness. 

Liam turns bright pink. “No! No, absolutely not.”

Louis scoffs a little, and Liam’s eyes get a little wider and he starts shaking his head furiously. 

“No, no— no no no, it’s not that— you’re gorgeous. But! I mean! Not as gorgeous as Zayn is. And smart he’s more than just good-looking. And I’m sure you are too, Louis.” He looks frazzled, working himself up more and more. “No, it’s just that he smells like Harry! That’s it, I promise, I swear it’s just that.”

Louis is a little caught off guard, but then he has to bite his lip a little to stop himself from beaming too brightly; he might blind the pair of them if he does. (It would probably be worth it, it’s a good thing to beam about, smelling like someone you really like.) 

(Really, really like.) 

“Harry,” Zayn says, “your fraternity brother?”

“Yeah, he came with me to donate at Second Chances that first time.”

“Right, right.” Zayn turns back to Louis, smirking. “Was he the bloke who I had to practically rip off of you about a month ago at our building?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You didn’t need to  _ rip him off of me, _ we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up, he was just walking me back. But, uh, we’ve gotten sort of close over the last few weeks.”

“Louis?” the barista calls. Louis turns and grabs the two cups and his white bag. 

Zayn looks down at his purchases and looks even more pleased when he looks back up. “Are you going back to him now?”

“Shut up, would you? I’m not telling.”

Liam looks a little uneasy at that. “Oh, uh, H didn’t come home last night, I don’t think he’s at the house.”

“I know,” Louis says, and he can’t help the smile that breaks through. 

Zayn looks scandalized, but the kind where he’s ecstatic to be in on the gossip. “Lou! Alpha’s aren’t allowed in Turner. You sly dog, you.”

Louis’ hands are occupied with the paper cups but he shoulder-checks him as he makes his way out of the cafe. “I never kiss and tell.”

“You always kiss and tell,” Zayn says fondly. “Come over later and tell me all about it.”

Louis laughs as he walks away, grinning at the pair of alpha’s that hold the door open for him, turning their heads to watch him walk away. 

It’s been a while since he’s gotten so much alpha attention. Objectively, he knows he’s got a nice figure, despite his own residual insecurities, but with the stabilizers making his own sense of smell a little dampened, it hasn’t been on the top of his radar. And now that he’s got a certain alpha who he knows likes his body and his scent, he doesn’t really care about any others. 

This feeling… it’s such a nice feeling. There is a little pang inside of him that says it was nice with Trevor, at first, too. But it wasn’t ever like this with Trevor, not even on their best days. Never this soft and lovely. 

When Louis makes it back to his dorm, Harry is still sleeping, but instead of curled up on his side, he’s now flat on his back, clutching Louis’ pillow with his left arm. (He’s so cute, still snoring away, but now he can see his curls matted messily to the side of his head.) 

Louis quietly drops his winter coat over the top of his dresser and shivers a little at the chill in the room. He remedies that by snatching up Harry’s electric blue suit jacket and tucking himself into it. He climbs onto the bed while balancing the cups in one hand. The bag crinkles a little too loudly, and Louis winces, but Harry doesn’t wake up. 

Good. Louis wants to wake him up another way. 

Softly, Louis kneels so his legs are on either side of Harry’s hips. He puts the bag down beside them on the bed and the paper cups on the desk on the other side. Then he slowly lowers his weight so he’s resting on top of Harry’s pelvis. He’s pleased to find Harry is half-hard already. He grinds his arse on top of the alpha’s cock. 

Leaning down further, so his chest is hovering parallel to Harry’s, he presses a feather-light kiss to the juncture of the alpha’s neck and shoulder. 

Harry stops snoring immediately and blinks his eyes open, confusion radiating off of him. His hands instinctively come up to rest at Louis’ waist. 

“Hi,” Louis says.

“Hi,” Harry replies, and then he starts smiling, moving his hands down to grip a little more firmly at Louis’ hips, which makes Louis gasp a little. 

The alpha groans and surges up to sniff and lick at Louis’ neck, which he’s automatically tilted back for him. One of Louis’ hands skims up the alpha’s chest and neck so his fingers can twist in his curls. 

Faltering a little, Harry pulls back, turning his head to sniff at Louis’ wrist before pulling back abruptly and glaring up at him. Louis pulls back fully and sits up immediately, left hand cautiously planted on Harry’s abdomen. 

“Did you… leave?”

Louis’ nodding, but before he can explain, Harry’s sitting up and bringing his unoccupied arm around Louis’ back to hold him to his chest. It’s firm and steady, but not uncomfortably restrictive. 

“And another alpha touched you?”

“Woah,” Louis says, bringing his palms up to push Harry away, going a little cross eyed with how close their faces are. “Yeah I ran into my friend Zayn and your fraternity brother Liam.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow, and he takes hold of Louis’ right arm, brings it up to his nose and sniffs again while still making eye-contact. He seems to recognize the scent and relaxes a little, but keeps holding on to Louis’ wrist. (Which Louis kind of likes, despite not loving this oddly aggressive version of Harry.)

He starts to feel a little uneasy, pushes back on the alpha’s chest again with his left hand. Harry goes with it easily and lays back down, but brings Louis with him. 

“Oof,” he huffs out, then pushes up a bit to look at Harry properly again. “I went to the cafe around the corner. I got us breakfast.”

Louis nods at the bag to his right and the cups to his left. Harry’s eyes flicker to both and then he looks truly remorseful. 

“Oh,” Harry says.

“Yeah,  _ oh, _ you dickhead. What did you think; I’d woken up and gone right off to shag someone else?”

“No! No, of course not, Lou,” Harry says, tightening his arm around his middle and caressing his wrist with the other hand. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised. Part of me— part of me thought maybe last night was a dream, it felt too good to be true. And then smelling someone else on you just made me feel a little…” he pulls a face and then bites his lip. “I don’t know. But I’m sorry.” 

He truly does sound it. And Louis can’t help but preen at the idea that Harry feels like being with him is  _ too good to be true.  _

“I even got you that caramel thing you like,” Louis says, forcing himself to sound haughty. 

Harry’s whole face goes soft. “Yeah?”

“And pastries.”

“You’re the best, Lou.” 

Louis preens again. When he tries to sit up, Harry lets him and starts shifting them up and back, so that the alpha’s half-leaning against the wall behind him

Louis leans to his left to grab the cups while Harry’s hands start skimming all over his body; up his thighs, around to his bum, over the mix of softness and muscle of his middle. He grips the material of the white t-shirt and then lets it go, moving to grip at the flesh at the side of Louis’ hips. He almost drops both cups twice with the feeling of it. 

He hands Harry his drink and takes a sip of his own. 

“What pastries did you get?” Harry asks, removing the lid and bringing the cup to his mouth. 

“Well, I got a chocolate croissant,” Louis says. To make it even sweeter, he grinds down a little. He can feel Harry thicken more beneath him. 

Harry’s eyes flicker up as he pulls the cup away. He’s got a bit of foam and caramel sauce on his upper lip. Louis wants to lick it off. 

The alpha smirks. “What else?” He takes another sip, and gets even more caramel sauce on his face. 

“Uh… an almond croissant.”

He puts his cup down beside them on the desk and nods for Louis to continue. 

“A cherry danish.”

Harry makes a big show of swiping his tongue over the mess he’s made on his lips and Louis can barely contain himself, shoving his cup down on the desk beside them and diving in to kiss him. The alpha returns it hungrily, flipping them over in a swift move so Louis is underneath him. 

Nosing down over his jaw and down his neck, he looks up hesitantly. “Can I— can I scent you, Lou?” he asks. 

Louis nods. “Yeah, please.” 

Instantly, Louis feels calm, feels Harry’s care being spread over him, smells the mix of rain and earth and lemon more acutely as the tip of Harry’s cold nose trails achingly slow over Louis’ neck. 

The alpha is making the best sounds, letting Louis know how into it he is. Louis feels like he’s on top of the world, overjoyed and about to jump out of his skin from all the want. 

“What else did my omega get for me?” Harry asks.

Louis’ omega bursts with pride, elated at the designation.  _ His omega.  _ He lets out a soft whimper and humps upwards. 

“Mmm, yeah, you like that? Like being my omega?” His alpha shuffles down further, massive hands touching every part of Louis’ body he can, one hand over and the other under Harry’s white shirt that Louis’ wearing. 

“Yeah, oh god,” Louis moans quietly, hands clutching at Harry’s shoulders. 

“Yeah you do. Such a good omega, love being good for me, don’t you?” He kisses down his belly. “Getting me breakfast, kissing me so nice, wearing my clothes so well.”

Louis tilts his head back and whines as Harry pushes his nose down against his groin, inhaling deeply. 

“Look so good in my clothes, baby.” He starts pulling Louis’ joggers down. He makes a happy noise when he finds Louis hasn’t got pants on. 

“Yeah?” Louis asks, threading a hands in Harry’s hair again. 

“Yeah. Fuck, always love how they look on you, but this is better. Knowing that I just had them on, that you smelled like me when you went out. They’re so big you. I know you’re wearing them and that you’re all mine.” Then he takes Louis’ cock in his mouth and swallows him all the way down. 

Louis gets caught in the overwhelming feeling of it all before he can fully catch up. He laughs a little. “What do you mean, always?” he says. 

Harry stops for a very brief moment, and then continues moving up and down on Louis’ cock. Fuck it feels so good. Maybe he’ll just ask him after. 

_ You’re all mine. _

Harry moans around him, and the vibrations send a lick of heat up his spine. 

_ But this is better. _

One of Harry’s large fingers moves to rub against his slick hole. It feels... _ fuck _ ...the best. 

_ Always love how they look on you.  _

“Fuck, Harry stop.” Louis pushes at his shoulder and tries to shuffle back to get his cock out of Harry’s mouth. 

Harry complies, but kisses up his abdomen quickly, trying to take hold of Louis’ lips in a passionate kiss. Louis tilts his head off to the side, so Harry only gets the corner of his mouth. 

“What did you say always for?”

“I didn’t,” Harry says. “I mean, I just meant I love how you look right now.” He sounds a little distant, distracted, mouthing and sniffing a little too intensely at Louis’ neck. 

Louis shoves him off and moves even further up the bed. “No, you said ‘this is better.’ What the fuck, Harry? What did you mean?”

Harry looks caught out and unsure in a way Louis’ never seen him before. 

“Explain yourself right this fucking instant Harry or I swear to fuck I’ll scream my head off.” 

Harry puts his hands up in a placating motion. Christ, he looks so funny, stark naked with a raging hard-on, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Louis pulls the white shirt down to cover himself more. 

“Fuck, okay. Okay, um. You’ve worn my clothes before.”

Louis laughs, disbelieving. “No I haven’t.” And it’s ridiculous, because it’s the exact thing Harry was trying to deny that  _ he’s  _ now denying, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t ever worn Harry’s clothes before this morning. 

The alpha’s blushing over his whole body, Louis’d guess half from arousal and half from embarrassment. 

“Erm, so like the shirt you were wearing at the event last night. That’s my favourite one.” 

Louis’ eyes flicker to the cream-colored button-up lying forgotten on the floor. He’d never worn it before yesterday. 

“Okay,” Louis says, trying to process that. 

“And the bomber jacket with the jungle scene.”

“Okay,” Louis says again. 

“And the… the shirt you slept in last night. That’s mine.”

Louis looks behind Harry to his dresser. The white silk, the jacket, the Hot-N-Hard…

“I got all of those from the thrift shop.”

Harry nods. “I donated them towards the start of the semester.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. 

“It was Liam’s idea, actually. It was part of our philanthropic work. Donating goods and money to them, since they support a lot of local charities and fundraisers. And I didn’t even want to, really, but I did, and fuck,” he looks deep into Louis’ eyes, looking so earnest.

“It’s the best move I’ve ever made, Lou,” Harry continues, “because I saw you outside of the shop and you smelled so good. And then,” he laughs a little, like he’s genuinely so happy. “You bought the clothes I donated and you’ve been wearing them, and I thought that meant you liked my scent, too. Like you could feel it in the clothes. And I just— I don’t know! It’s just made me so happy.”

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry, and that seems to throw him off. He shrinks back a little more. Louis feels powerful, but (stronger than that) he feels angry. 

“So you watched me wear your old clothes all semester,” he says slowly. “And you agreed to tutoring...to what? In pity because you knew I needed the money? Or to get me to trust you? To see if I would, based on your scent or something?”

Harry is shaking his head. “No, not—”

“You spent hours getting me alone with you. Was this all a trick? A fucking experiment? Another thing to try out, see if you actually wanted me like you do with your fucking coursework? And you didn’t say anything.”

“Absolutely not, Louis—”

“And even after Niall told you about… about my issues. You still came here. And even after I told you about what I’d gone through, with Trevor. With Trevor and my scent. Even then… you didn’t say anything.”

Harry is violently shaking his head now. 

“You didn’t fucking say anything Harry, why the fuck didn’t you say anything if this wasn’t some sort of sick project of yours.” 

And Louis is crying now. Great. 

“Lou, please listen, just let me explain—”

“No. You’ve had a lot of time to explain, Harry. Every tutoring session. Every after-tutoring session, every text message, yesterday, last night,  _ this-fucking-morning _ . You only want to explain because you slipped up.” Louis laughs, loud and humorless. He curls up into himself, bringing his knees to his chest, pulling the white shirt over them, getting himself covered as much as he can. He was ready to go at it not 5 minutes and now he couldn’t be more upset at the thought of Harry touching him. “Get the fuck out of my room.” 

“No, Lou, please, let’s talk about this, I can explain.”

“Stop calling me Lou. Only friends get to call me Lou.”

Harry looks a little heartbroken at that. Good. “But we are friends. I thought...I thought you were gonna be my—”

“I said get out, Harry,” Louis says, raising his voice. Doesn’t think he can stand to hear Harry call him what he was about to call him. Thinks he’ll crumble if he does.

Harry watches him as he slowly gathers his pants and trousers from the floor, slipping on his shoes slowly. It feels like he’s waiting for something. Maybe thinks that Louis will break and ask Harry to hold him instead, to not leave. 

But fuck that. After all Louis’ been through? He’s stronger than that. 

“Lou—”

Louis whips off the blue suit jacket he’s got on and chucks it at Harry. He’s angry, but he knows it’s cold out and he’s not a monster. Plus, he might burn it if he’s left with it (like he plans on burning all of the other clothes) and it’s too nice for that. 

“Louis,  _ please _ .” 

Harry looks like he’s about to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Louis’ omega is begging him to concede, let his alpha hold him and settle for whatever explanation there is. 

But… his alpha would never lead him on like this. Would never let him feel this way. Harry is obviously not his alpha. 

“Get the fuck out,” he spits out.

Louis’ not looking at him anymore, shivering in the thin white t-shirt, trying to hold back his tears. He can see Harry shake his head out of the corner of his eye before he turns around and leaves the room, still topless and hunched over. 

When the door clicks shut, Louis lets himself sob for two minutes before he pulls himself together, changes into clothes that don’t smell as strongly of Harry, and eats all five pastries himself. Harry’s coffee goes cold on the desk. 

***

Louis spends all day in his room, watching dumb things to try and make himself laugh. It keeps the tears at bay but not much laughter comes from it. 

Zayn has texted him a few times, asking him if he’s still in bed  _ ‘being rawed so good the FSA will need to put a warning label on him’. _ He doesn’t respond and he doesn’t look at anymore texts from him after that. 

His phone is blowing up with texts from Harry. Every few minutes there’s a new one. By 5pm, his phone tells he’s got 17 missed calls and one hundred and fifty three texts. He doesn’t listen or look at one of them. He also can’t bring himself to just delete them, so they go unread.

His mum even tries calling, and he only answers to tell her that he’s feeling poorly and he’ll call back sometime this week. 

All day, he only answers one text. 

Niall (2:31pm):  _ we still on for movie night? _

Louis (4:42pm):  _ yes _

Louis (4:49pm):  _ put all the cheese you can fit on a pizza on the pizza _

Niall (5:22pm):  _ one deluxe pizza with extra extra extra extra cheese coming up _

Niall (5:38pm):  _ this looks sick why have we never done this before _

Niall knocks on his door at around 6pm. By the time he arrives the cheese has congealed to a thick, hard-to-bite-into layer on top of not-enough sauce (this is why they’ve never done this before) but Louis revels in it and keeps eating slice after slice even though he’s not hungry. 

Dutifully, Niall keeps his arm wrapped around Louis all night as they watch the worst movie they can find, and then they watch it again because they can’t find anything else they want to see and that last one still has so much more to make fun of. 

Once the clock hits 10pm, Niall slips his shoes on, and then pauses, letting out a breath. 

“Alright mate, I did it.” Louis looks over at him, confused. “I bit my tongue and didn’t say a peep, because I wanted you to be the one to tell me, but I’m dying here. You gotta.”

“I—”

“I ran into Zayn yesterday at Lava Java —sounds like just after he saw you— and he said you were buzzin’ with how happy you were. And then I get ambushed at work the morning by Harry—” Louis winces at the name “—who’s freaking the fuck out so hard I can barely understand what he’s saying. So you gotta tell me. What happened?”

Louis picks at a thread on his joggers. “Sorry he went to you, he shouldn’t have.”

Niall sighs. “Lou, you know I’m not upset about that.”

“Yeah I know.”

“And I’m not upset at all, really, other than that you didn’t call me immediately whenever he did whatever he did. But also, what did he do that still had him coming to me to help him fix it? Couldn’t have been Trevor-level. Trevor never would have reached out to me.”

Louis winces again. And then he tries to explain. 

He mentions the clothes, reminding Niall of what he said that Sunday months ago, and explaining for real this time why he had those clothes. He tells him about everything that’s happened with Harry during their tutoring sessions and feeling closer to him. He tells him (with a deep blush that doesn’t go away for three full minutes) about leading Harry to believe he was dating Niall. He tells him they had sex (really fantastic sex). He tells him about Harry telling him that he’s been wearing his clothes all along, and about throwing him out. 

Niall listens patiently through all of it, nodding and resting a hand on Louis’ knee at the most difficult parts for him to get out. 

At the end, Louis is tucked under Niall’s arm again, and the crying has started back up. 

“What’s making you feel this way, Lou?” Niall asks. “What’s got you feeling it this hard? Not to get technical, but it sounds like you both lied —or didn’t totally tell the truth— with a couple of fairly big things. What about it is hitting you so hard?”

Louis sobs again and then really thinks on it. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess. I guess it’s because it feels too much like Trevor stuff. The sneakiness and possessiveness. It just. It just feels like a lot.”

He feels Niall nod against the top of his head. 

“And you said the clothes you bought from Second Chances were ones Harry donated? All of them?”

Louis hesitates. “I think so. Yeah, he didn’t say, but I know they were. I know it.”

Niall nods again, rubs a hand comfortingly up and down his arm. “I’m going to ask something, and if you say yes, I won’t ever bring it up again, and I will shun Harry from now down through all of my descendents.”

Louis laughs a little, genuinely for the first time in a couple of days. He nods. 

“Does Harry remind you of Trevor?”

Louis thinks on that, too. Thinks of Harry’s green eyes, and his dimples, his soft laugh, and the way every time he touched Louis he felt like something precious. Even after he’d woken up and thought Louis touched someone else, even then the touches weren’t harsh, like they were with Trevor. 

Louis shakes his head. “No. He doesn’t.” 

Niall nods again. “That doesn’t mean you have to go running back to him or anything. I just wanted to be sure.”

He lets out a shaky breath and cuddles further into Niall’s side. “Thank you, Ni. I know. I think I should probably talk to him. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Niall agrees, and Louis feels the smile against the side of his head. 

Niall leaves shortly after. Once he does, Louis stares at the bag at the foot of his bed; the one stuffed full of all the second-hand clothes. Harry’s clothes.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry is the earliest he’s ever been to Rom-Vic. He skipped lunch entirely in order to make sure he was the first in the lecture hall, in the seat right next to where Louis usually sits, hoping to catch him before the lecture starts, make it alright. 

It turns out, it was the worst move he could have made, because Louis comes in at the exact last possible moment before Dr. Schwartz starts talking, and takes the first seat he can find in the middle of the first row. He takes off his winter coat, and Harry tries everything in his power to stop the heartbroken sound coming out of his mouth. 

For the first time in months, Louis isn’t wearing anything of Harry’s. He’s in a red sweater that actually fits his frame and a pair of old jeans he’s seen on him a dozen times. Harry tries not to panic. 

Louis starts setting up, as he normally does, getting his laptop and notebook out. Dr. Schwartz turns to the board and starts writing something down. 

Harry isn’t paying attention, and instead is gathering his own things, standing and walking down towards the front. 

There are no seats next to Louis, but there is one directly behind him. 

“Excuse me,” he whispers to an annoyed-looking beta girl at the end of the second row. “Can I squeeze by?”

“Mr. Styles, what are you doing?” Dr. Schwartz asks. 

He turns to look at her, straightening up, tightening his hold on his laptop to his chest. “Just taking my seat, Dr. Schwartz,” he says, feeling every pair of eyes in the room on him. All except for one. 

“Didn’t you have a seat up towards the back not one minute ago?”

“I couldn’t hear you over there,” Harry lies. “I just thought I’d move closer so I could. Hear you, that is.”

“There’s a seat right there,” she says, pointing to the other side of the aisle, an end cap. 

“Oh, yeah my left ear has a bit of a hearing thing. That seat—” he points to the one just behind Louis, who is still not looking at him, even though everyone around him is, “—would be perfect. For my hearing.”

Dr. Schwartz looks exasperated and very much like she doesn’t believe him. “Fine, just go.” 

He shimmies past three people to get to the seat and sends apologetic smiles to them and to Dr. Schwartz, who looks like she wants to roll her eyes, but refrains, diving into her lecture. 

At a glance, it doesn’t look like anything is wrong, but Harry can see Louis’ ears spike red and his scent is  _ more.  _ It’s too many feelings all at once for Harry to discern, but he knows the underlying one, too familiar to ignore: anxiety. He remembers scenting Louis just a few days ago, feeling how pliant and soft he got. He wants to do it again now, but it’s much too public, and there are at least three other people who would get Harry’s residual scent as a result, which is more than a faux pas. 

He leans forward though, when Dr. Schwartz has her back turned to the board again, and whispers, “Lou.”

Louis either doesn’t hear him or ignores him. There’s a spike of something else in his scent now. Whatever it is, it makes Harry’s salivate, and he leans further forward. “Lou,” he says, softer and a little breathier. 

It looks like Louis was about to tilt his neck, expose it for Harry, but immediately scrunches his shoulders up, hides it more. 

“Lou,” he pleads, a third time, coming out a little sharper. His alpha voice. Oops.

And just as Louis starts to actually bare his neck for Harry, just as Harry forgets where they are and starts to lean in further, about to lick a long stripe up the back of his neck, scent him, turn his head so he can kiss him… just as it all happens, Dr. Schwartz lets out a strangled noise. 

Harry jumps back in surprise, looks up at her, dazed. 

“Mr. Styles!” she shouts, belatedly. 

“I’m sorry!” he says and his eyes go back to Louis, on his bared neck. His mouth is still watering, but he feels awful about it. Fuck. 

The whole room is silent. 

“Mr. Tomlinson?” Dr. Schwartz asks hesitantly. 

Louis stands, hands trembling and when he turns around his eyes are wide and so blue. He looks at Harry and is breathing loudly through his mouth. Harry wants to scent him, kiss him, hold him, touch him, taste him, pull him in and make it so that no one exists but the two of them... 

Louis looks away. He puts on his coat. He grabs his laptop in one hand and his bookbag in the other, turns, and starts walking out of the room. 

Harry stands, ready to step down on the seat and follow, leaving all of his things behind, when he hears his name being called in a sharp tone from Dr. Schwartz. 

“Sit. Down,” she says, glaring daggers into his head. 

“But I need—”

“You need to be here for the lecture, Mr. Styles, or I will fail you for lack of participation.” 

Harry doesn’t care. He doesn't care if he fails all of his courses, he just needs Louis. Needs to know he’s okay, needs to make things right. 

But then he looks down at the omega girl sitting next to him, clutching at the edges of the little desk in front of her, looking up. Like she’s terrified of him. He looks around and everyone is staring. 

What the fuck did he do. 

He sits and stares down at his hands. Dr. Schwartz continues with her lecture, but looks at Harry’s section far more than any other. 

When the lecture is over, Harry continues to sit and gaze at his hands, until it’s just him and Dr. Schwartz, who is sitting at her desk and looking at him. 

“Did I ruin it?” he asks the room, nonsensically. 

Dr. Schwartz sighs. “I’ve seen a lot of things in all my years of teaching, you know,” she says. “So many good students, a few quite horrendous ones. Most are just okay.” She sighs again. “They put in the effort, they give me solid work, and they never have a course with me again. They do okay. ”

Harry nods. A few quite horrendous. He wonders if that’s him. 

“I’ve seen more than my fair share of relationships as well. Students that are a couple when they start my course or students that find each other in the course and get close. Plenty that find and unfind each other before the course is even finished.”

Unfind. He wants to laugh at that, but his heart cracks too heavily for anything like that to be funny. 

“I don’t get involved,” she says, resolutely. “But it does give me a nice feeling when one of my good students finds another good student and they are happy. Or, at least, happy when I see them last.” She sighs yet again. “It’s such a tumultuous time for you all. Too many feelings, I don’t miss that bit in the slightest. I do like when I see something improve, though.” 

Harry nods, even though he absolutely has no idea what’s she’s trying to tell him. 

“What I’m saying, Mr. Styles, is that I like when effort is put in, and I know many people who are the same. Perhaps you should give a better effort.”

A better effort. 

When he looks up, he’s alone, but he has an idea. It’s not a great one. He’s not even sure if it’s a good one, but it’s the only one he’s got. 

He shows up to Turner Hall a half hour later with a styrofoam cup in his hand, staring at the door. Now that he’s here he doesn’t know why he thought this was okay for him to do. But now that he’s here he can’t leave, so he’s stuck staring at the glass door in front of him. 

He calls Liam. 

_ “Hullo?”  _ Liam answers. 

“Is this what you felt like when Zayn called and you talked nonsense for ten minutes at him?”

_ “H?” _

“I feel awful, Li, I just want to hold him.”

Liam mumbles something, but it’s muffled through the phone. Harry doesn’t care. 

“It’s not even been three full days and I miss him like hell. I had him and then I lost him. Just because I’m fucking stupid and didn’t tell him it was my clothes.” 

_ “Harry, where are you right now?” _

“Outside of his building.” 

_ “What are you doing?” _

Harry shrugs, even though Liam can’t see him. “Nothing. Well. I want to apologize. I want to talk to him. But I’m not allowed in, and he’s not answering my texts or my calls. I just— how do you fix it, Liam? You fixed it, didn’t you? How did you fix it?”

_ “I think we’re in two very different situations, mate.” _

Harry nods. “Because I broke his trust,” he whispers. “You think he won’t ever forgive me.”

_ “H, I don’t know about that, man—” _

The clear glass door opens in front of Harry. It’s Zayn. 

A really pissed off-looking Zayn. 

God, he really didn’t want to truly meet one of Louis’ best friends like this. 

Zayn is out of the door fully, no shoes on his feet even though it’s freezing temperatures outside. “What the fuck do you want?” he says. 

“It’s Zayn,” Harry says into his phone, even though Liam didn’t ask. “I wanted to talk to Lou,” Harry says to the man in front of him. 

“Well, that’s not going to happen, so you can fuck right off, can’t you.” His arms are crossed now, and his eyebrows are pulled together sharply. His whole face looks like it could cut Harry without even getting near him. 

“Can you call him? Can you let him know I’m here, I have something for him.” Harry holds out the styrofoam cup with the hand not holding the phone to his ear. 

“Fuck if I will, mate. Fuck off. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“I know, Zayn, but please. I have to see him, I have to explain,” Harry begs. 

“Sounds to me like you had your chance to explain already.”

Harry lets out a frustrated groan. “Liam, can you talk some sense into your boyfriend?”

“Not boyfriend,” Zayn says as Liam says the same thing in his ear. 

“Fine, your beta or whatever.”

“Oi, I’m not anyone’s anything, fucker! Fucking mysoginist prick. No wonder Louis doesn’t want you anymore.” 

Harry growls, low and deep. He can feel anger course through his entire body. 

Zayn doesn’t flinch, but suddenly there’s yelling in his ear, and in an instant, Liam is rushing out the glass door too, hand clutching something as he moves to stand in front of Zayn protectively. Belatedly, Harry realizes Liam’s carrying shoes that he hands over to Zayn. 

It pulls Harry out of it, but he still says, “Liam?” into his phone as he’s standing in front of him. “I thought alphas weren’t allowed in there.”

“Apologize to him. Right the fuck now, Harry Styles.”

Zayn continues to stare at Harry, but pulls on his shoes, shaking his head. 

Harry looks at Zayn and feels himself go red all over. “Oh. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. He brings the phone down, still clutching it in his hand, and he feels tears well up in his eyes. “Fuck. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to growl at you.”

He feels one drop slip down his cheek and he lets out a soft cry. “I just. I’m just really fucking at a loss. I miss him and I just want to talk to him. For him to listen. To understand. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to keep it from him. I was so scared. I’m scared of losing him. That I’ve lost him. I love him I can’t lose him.”

Panting, he finds tears racing down his cheeks now. Zayn’s harsh expression is gone in a flash and his arms have dropped at his sides. He looks off-kilter. Beside him, Liam looks sympathetic. 

“Alright, mate,” he says softly. 

Harry chokes back as many tears as he can. “Can you— can you please just call him? Can you let him know I’m here? I’ll leave. If he wants me to leave, I’ll leave, I just want him to know I’m here. That I’m trying.” 

Zayn looks uneasy. 

“Please,” Harry begs. 

Looking over to Liam, who just shrugs, Zayn sighs and pulls out his phone as Harry puts his away. 

They’re all quiet as they wait. 

“Hi Lou,” Zayn says. Harry’s heart cracks —hurt that Louis would answer for someone else but not him, even if he was expecting it— and soars, knowing his omega is alright. 

His omega. 

His heart cracks a little more. 

“I’ve, uh, I’ve got Harry here with me,” Zayn says. “He wanted me to call. He said he’s got something for you, but’ll leave if that’s what—” he frowns, his eyebrows pull together. “Sorry, I think I misheard you. What did you just say?” Zayn shakes his head after a beat. “I’m sorry you want me to ask him for what?” 

“Anything,” Harry says. “I’ll give him anything he wants. Always anything he wants.” 

Zayn shakes his head and puts a hand up, cutting Harry off. “Yeah, no, mate I heard you, but there’s no way I’m asking him that. Listen, he’s got a cup of something here, I’ll bring that to you. And then maybe you can call him, yeah?”

Louis talks on the other line for half a minute before Zayn is shaking his head again. “Mate, I get it. Well, that’s a lie, I absolutely don’t get it, but I’m not asking him that, it’s fucking freezing out here, Lou, and why do you even need—”

Zayn pulls the phone away to look at it. He rolls his eyes and looks over at Liam. “Fucker hung up on me.”

Suddenly, Harry can see Louis walking down the hall through the door, walking straight towards them, eyes locked on Harry. He looks stern. He looks beautiful. 

When he pushes the door open, Harry immediately launches into a speech. 

“Louis, I know it was wrong to not tell you earlier that they were my clothes, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about tutoring. And —yeah— at first I absolutely was drawn to you because of your scent, but it became so much more than that. When I thought you had a boyfriend, I thought about ending tutoring, but you were just so cool and smart and funny and I just liked you so much I couldn’t bear to not be with you each week.”

He takes a deep breath. “And then on Saturday, fuck, Saturday was the best day of my life, Lou! Because you wanted me like I wanted you and it was the best feeling. So I know I fucked up, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, making so that it doesn’t even matter because you’ll feel how much I love you every day.”

It’s quiet for a moment. 

Louis is just looking at him. He’s in his red sweater and jeans, socks the only thing on his feet. He must be cold, Harry thinks. He looks okay, not shivering or anything. Harry’s twitching to take off his coat and give it to him, anyway.

“And!” Harry continues. He shoves out his hand wrapped around the cup. “And I brought you a milkshake! Mint chocolate chip, because it’s your favourite, and because I know you were feeling anxious today and it helped last time. I know this is all my fault but I want to make it right. I want to be better for you. Please let me be better for you. Let’s try this.”

Louis walks the last few steps, looking like he’s in a daze, and he grabs the styrofoam cup from Harry’s hand. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. At least he did  _ something  _ right. 

Louis looks at it curiously, like he’s unsure how to proceed. 

“Fuck! The straw, sorry,” Harry takes it from his pocket, unwraps it, and sticks it in the lid. Louis is just looking at him again, so Harry nods encouragingly. 

He looks back at the cup and slowly brings the straw to his mouth to take a sip. He pulls off a moment later and licks his lips. Louis looks back up to Harry. 

“Can I have your shirt?” he asks. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something and then pulls back. 

“What?” he asks. Maybe he heard him incorrectly. 

Louis looks down to Harry’s chest, where his grey fraternity-logo t-shirt is peaking through from under his jacket. “That shirt, can I have it?”

“Right now?” Harry asks.

Louis just nods. 

Harry looks up and over to Zayn and Liam. Liam looks exactly like Harry feels: confused, lost, and a little sad. Zayn just shrugs at him like  _ yeah, see this is what I’ve been dealing with.  _

“Louis, did you hear what I said before? When I was apologizing? About trying this—” he points between the two of them “—for real?”

Louis takes another sip of the milkshake, shrugs, pulls off and says, “No.”

“No you don’t want to try, or no you weren’t listening?”

“No I wasn’t listening,” Louis says. He takes another sip. “So can I have it or not?”

Harry turns slightly to the left, frustrated, and lets out a little noise that says so. “Louis, can we focus?”

“Can I or not?”

“No,” he says, annoyed. “I need you to please tell me what you’re thinking so we can work on… where are you going?”

Louis’ turned away and started walking back into the building. “It’s cold,” is all he says, not even bothering to turn around. 

The door closes behind him, and Harry is left, open-mouthed and fucking confused as hell. 

Both Zayn and Liam look uneasy. 

“Well,” Zayn says. “I, uh, guess try another day?” 

Harry closes his eyes and huffs. 

Liam says, “It’s alright, mate, maybe it’s just the stress of finals, or summat. Try calling later, maybe he’ll answer this time. He did take the milkshake, that’s a good sign.”

What the fuck. 

Zayn and Liam are quiet. After a minute they head inside. Harry can hear the door close after them. 

Standing in front of Turner Hall, he’s at a loss of what to do, feeling the kind of quiet that only heartbreak and winter can give. It may be two-fold, since he’s living in both. 

Finally, he opens his eyes, just as an omega boy is pushing the door open and running off. Harry doesn’t see where because suddenly he’s lunging for the door, ripping it open, and running inside down the hallways. 

He passes some confused faces and some frightened ones as he bounds up the stairs.

Once he’s at Louis’ door, he knocks and doesn’t stop knocking until Louis’ form is in front of him. He’s pulled the door open just enough so that he can stand in it, and is looking at Harry expectantly.

The smell is even more intense than he remembers. He wants to shove Louis inside, bend him over on the floor and fuck him right there. The only reason they’d even make it inside the room is because Harry wouldn’t want other people seeing his omega like that, laid out for the taking. But only for his alpha, only ever for Harry. 

“Baby, what the fuck?” he says instead, pushing away his sex-centered thoughts. “What the fuck was that? Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Louis takes another sip of his milkshake, and seems a little more present than he was a few minutes ago. “Sorry,” he says. 

“No, no sorrys, just tell me. Just talk to me,” Harry pleads. “I’ll do anything you want, anything you need, but you gotta talk to me.”

Louis seems to think that over, takes another sip. Harry can see the minty-green color on his tongue as he pulls his lips off the straw again. He can feel blood rushing down to his groin. He wants to pull him in, taste the mint on his lips and tongue, taste Louis’ favourite flavor mixed with Harry’s favorite flavor: Louis. His knot even starts to build up from the thought of it. 

“Can you give me your shirt?” the omega asks. 

Exasperated, Harry puts his head in his hands. “Would that make you forgive me? Would that make you happy?”

“I need it,” Louis says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

Harry pulls his head away from his hands, letting his arms drop by his sides. “You need it?”

Louis just shrugs. “I need your shirt.”

“Fine!” Harry practically yells. There’s some heads poking out of other rooms now, but Harry dutifully rips off his jacket and strips his t-shirt, shoving it into Louis’ hands. He thinks he hears a  _ ‘wow’  _ from someone behind him. “Here! Are you happy? Can we talk now?”

Louis looks pleased, even hums a little, brings it to his nose and breathes it in. He moans a little. It makes Harry’s jaw drop, and he can feel his cock thicken a bit more in his pants. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he turns around, leaving the door open behind him. 

Without Louis in front of him, Harry suddenly feels all the eyes on him. He brings his arms up, rubs his palms against his upper arms for something to do. “Uh, Lou? Can I maybe come in?”

“Yes,” Louis says from behind the door, voice light and a little airy. 

Harry breathes a sigh of relief and steps in, closing the door behind him. He halts his movements after that, startled by what Louis is doing. 

On his bed, Louis is kneeling over a little mound of clothes. All of Harry’s clothes, now topped with Harry’s grey Alpha-Phi-Sig t-shirt. 

“Um,” Harry starts. But Louis doesn’t turn around. He just pulls out the sheer black t-shirt and overlaps it at the bottom of the grey one. “Lou?” he tries again.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

Louis shrugs, back still to Harry. “I don’t know,” he says. He smooths out a line on the white t-shirt that’s resting on his pillow. 

Harry takes a tentative step towards him. “Baby… are you nesting?”

Louis scoffs out a, “No,” but then pauses his movements. He pulls back, sits straighter with his knees still on the bed. “No, I can’t be,” he says again. 

Harry blushes, feels a mix of embarrassment and pride. “You can, Lou, if you… I mean, it makes sense. Like this. Because of how we feel about each other.” Louis doesn’t turn around. “I mean! Not to presume you feel a certain way. But I do. Feel that way. And I think this sort of says… you do too?”

Louis laughs, a little manic. He pushes himself back to crawl off the bed, shaking his head. “No, no I can’t be nesting,” he says. 

Harry’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. “Lou, baby, I think you are. And I think this means...I think this means you have feelings...for me. And I know I fucked up. I know I did. But if you’ve got those feelings baby, I think we can work through this. I think we can do it right this time.” 

He takes a deep breath in, and moves so he’s standing right in front of Louis. Waits until he locks eyes with him. 

“Louis, I— I wanted to say this in a more romantic place. Maybe after we’ve actually been out on a date or something,” he laughs self-deprecatingly. “But I just need to say it, I think.” He swallows down the fear. “I love you, Louis. I think I’ve been in love with you for half the semester, and pushed those feelings down because I thought you were taken.” 

Louis shakes his head and then nods. 

“And I messed up, I did, but I want to prove to you that I mean it. That I love you. That we can work. You’re my omega, Lou. I want you to be my mate. You are, I can feel it. I just know it.”

Louis has tears in his eyes. It looks like he’s trying to blink them away, but a couple sneak through, roll down his cheeks. 

Harry takes a tentative step forward. “You’re everything I want, Lou. Everything. And I can only try to always be everything you need. I want to try, baby, more than anything in the entire world. I know I’m shit at decisions, but picking you is something I’ll never go back on. This is it. It feels right. Doesn’t it?”

Louis lets out a little sob and rushes forward into Harry’s arms, lifts himself up and kisses him hard and passionately. Harry kisses right back, sobbing back into his mouth. 

“I love you,” Harry says into his mouth. It’s hot, wet, and the best thing Harry’s ever tasted, even if mint and citrus don’t go that well together. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll say it every day until you believe it, and then a million times more so you never forget.” 

Louis cries out again, kisses Harry harder, climbs Harry and wraps his legs around his waist so Harry falls back on the bed. He holds Louis tight through it all. Louis feels so hot against him, skin feels like it’s on fire. 

“I’m yours,” Harry says. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me. Please say you’ll have me.”

Louis’ hands tangle into Harry’s hair. “Harry,” he says. “God, fuck, Harry I don’t want to ruin this moment. Everything you’re saying is so lovely.” 

Harry’s heart stutters and he pulls back, worried. 

“No, no, no,” Louis rushes to say, kissing him again, like he’s making sure Harry knows he means it. “No, fuck, I… I don’t know if I’m ready to say… that… quite yet, but I want it, Harry. I want you. I want us.” 

Harry’s heart soars, and he crushes Louis’ to his chest, holding the back of his head firmly so he can kiss as ferociously as he needs to. 

Louis pushes away. “But Harry. The reason… fuck,” he grinds his hips down to Harry’s lap. It feels fantastic, so Harry grinds up to meet him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis grits out, pulling his left hand down, scratching over Harry’s pec, over his nipple so that he gasps out. “Fuck Harry, I only want to nest when I’m in heat.” 

Harry pulls away, in shock. “What?”

Louis is nodding, grinding his arse back in Harry’s lap, whining a little. “I’m going into heat,” he says. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t hear what you said. I actually think the milkshake helped ground me a little, thank you for that. But I… I am very much going into heat. I can feel it now.” 

As if to prove it, he humps forward so his hard cock rubs up against Harry’s abdomen. 

They lock eyes again and Harry can see it now, his omega’s eyes are glassy and dilated. He can’t believe he missed it. The stronger scent, the way Harry’s knot started up right away, the way Louis didn’t seem cold when he was outside. He should have known just at that; Louis is always cold. 

“Okay, fuck,” Harry says. “What do you need?” 

“Mmm,” Louis says, kissing Harry again, like he can’t help it. “I’m usually at home for this one. I’m not due for another three weeks, not until after finals. Fuck it’s gotta be the genertic stabilizers, fucked my schedule up.” 

“Okay,” Harry says. He taps his fingers on Louis’ hipbone.

“You can’t stay,” Louis pants out, latching his limbs around Harry. “Fuck, you really shouldn’t stay. I don’t know if my stabilizers will be effective.”

Obviously not, Harry thinks. He’s distracted from answering by the spike in Louis’ scent, the feeling of wetness through his omega’s jeans. 

“Harry,” Louis whines. “God I want you to stay but I can’t risk getting pregnant.”

Oh god. Harry thrusts up a few times as he feels his cock swell more at the thought of Louis full of his pups. Pregnant and glowing. Every bit of him oversensitive. He’d come so easily, wouldn't he? Wants to make him come now. 

He cries out in frustration, tries to push Louis away while still holding him close. “All of the rooms in this dorm are supposed to be heat-compatible, right?” he grunts. “Scent neutralizers and everything?”

Louis moans in response. His scent gets impossibly more overwhelming and he grips more fiercely all over Harry’s body. When he looks into Louis’ eyes they’re near black and fully glazed over, hungry with want. 

“Do you have a toy?”

“Yeah, bottom drawer,” he moans, nodding lazily, “but I’ve got something better right here.” He palms at the front of Harry’s trousers, moving to undo the button. “My alpha,” the omega pants. “My alpha who’ll knot me so good. Make me take it like no one else ever has.” 

“Fuck. I can’t— I’ll— fuck I don’t wanna leave you,” Harry grinds up again, can feel his knot start to swell.

“Don’t leave, please,” he begs. “I’ll take my shirt off, if you really want it. I’ll do it for you. I’ll let you see me. You can see all of me,” he babbles. 

It’s what finally pulls Harry out of it. His own instincts are going against what’s best for Louis —for both of them— and that’s not right.

“Baby,” he groans, “Lou, you can keep your shirt on. I have to go. I shouldn’t be here, anyways.” He palms at Louis’ cock to help him take the edge off. “They might expel us if they catch me here.” 

“Don’t care,” he says. “Need you with me.” 

“You do care, Lou. You’re one semester away from graduating.”

The omega moans into his mouth, palming at Harry’s cock and using the same arm to grind against. Harry groans. It’s all so dirty, so fucking amazing. 

“Don’t you want to help me? Don’t you want to fuck me through my heat?”

Yeah he does. Wants to suck Louis dry. Wants to fuck him ‘til he’s spent. Wants him filled with come. Wants to abuse his little hole with the most pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

The omega skims his teeth across Harry’s jaw. “Thought you said you were gonna be everything I needed.” 

Harry moans, a little pained. “Don’t use that against me, it’s not fair.” 

“Who said heat was ever fair?” he whispers in his ear, teeth nibbling at his earlobe. 

“Baby —fuck— Lou, how do I turn on the heat mode?” he asks suddenly, voice deep, fingers digging into the flesh of Louis’ hips. 

“Right beside the door,” he says. “Just put in my code —0928— and it’ll be on lockdown for three days. No one can come in and find you. All mine,” The omega bites at his neck and  _ fuck _ it’s so hot. 

“You’ve got enough food and water?”

“Power bars, under my bed. Water bottles in my cabinet.” 

“Get comfortable, Louis,” Harry murmurs, lifting his omega off of him and lying him down on the bed. “Want you to spend your entire heat thinking of me.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Louis says, undoing his jeans, shimming them down. Harry moves to grab a few water bottles and a stack of energy bars, putting them on the desk for easy-access. 

Then, he shuffles through the bottom dresser, pulls out Louis’ toy and places it beside him on the bed. He feels annoyed at it. Knows it’s not good enough, certainly not better than Harry’s own cock and his own —bigger— knot. 

He kisses Louis fiercely.

“How do you want me?” his omega asks. 

“How do you like it best?”

“On my front. Want you to take me so deep. Want you to hold me down as you fuck me.”

“Christ,” Harry mumbles. “On your belly, Lou. Show me how you like it with your toy.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “But—”

In his alpha voice, Harry says, “Show me.”

The omega immediately complies, arse up on the bed, leaning practically all of his weight on his shoulders as he teases himself with the head of the dildo. His hole is glistening, slick running down his thighs. 

It physically hurts to pull himself away.

“I love you,” Harry says. And then he’s punching in Louis’ code and shutting the door, making sure it locks behind him. 

Once he hears the click and beep, there’s silence, and all of his scent is cut off. Harry rests his forehead on the door, scratches his fingernails along it softly, immediately wanting to be back inside. 

His omega. In heat. Without him. 

What the fuck did he just do. Can’t even hear him moaning. Can’t even confirm how much his baby needs him. He needs to hear it. Fuck, he needs to get back in. 

Just as he’s about to start trying to break down the door, he feels a firm grip on his shoulder. He turns to see Liam, looking cautiously at him. He feels a growl start up in the center of his belly, but he swallows it down. Liam’s not trying to get at his omega. His omega is safe. It’s all okay. 

Harry shakes his head. He left Louis in there for a reason. He can’t risk Louis getting pregnant, as much as Harry wants pups. It’s not something they’ve discussed before. And Louis hasn’t even graduated. Who knows if he even wants pups. They haven’t even talked about what happens after this. Fuck. 

He pushes himself away from the door. 

“Zayn figured it out once we got back to his room,” Liam says. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna come out, but he said you would.” Liam shrugs, sappy little smile on his face. “You okay?” 

Harry nods. “Yeah.” He looks back towards the door. “Yeah, I think we’re gonna be okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

Louis wakes up, feeling sweaty with several layers of come and slick dried on his skin. 

(Gross.)

He assesses the situation. There’s a bit of light streaming through his blinds, so he’d guess it’s late afternoon. He’s lying naked, face down on his bed, and can feel the dildo in his arse as he sits up. He winces as he pushes the button to deflate the plastic knot and wriggles the toy out of him, his hole automatically clenching around nothing once it’s empty (for what he assumes is the first time in days). The room smells of sex and only faintly of Harry. 

Harry. 

Louis groans, trying to think of what he remembers last. He was feeling weird about his shirts. Remembers needing Harry’s shirt, absolutely needing it. The clothes didn’t feel right without it. He didn’t feel right without it. 

And then he got the shirt, figured out he was nesting while Harry told him he loved him. Then he felt himself get really hot and…

Wait, was that a heat-fever dream? Did Harry actually tell him he loved him? Or is that just what Louis wants to believe?

He didn’t stay. 

He’d left while Louis was in heat. 

That doesn’t feel like love. 

Does it?

Louis groans again and tentatively puts his feet on the floor to stand. His legs are a bit wobbly, but not too bad. He starts pulling his sheets off the bed and throws them to the floor and out of the way. His phone bounces to the floor at his feet as he does so, obviously having been tangled up in his sheets. 

The battery is dead, which is a bit strange since he was —erm— preoccupied, but he plugs it in anyway before he goes about putting fresh sheets on the mattress and pulling on a pair of clear joggers. 

If he’s honest, he could go for another wank (still feeling a lick of want low in his belly) but he needs to sort himself out first. He unexpectedly went into heat, which means he missed at least a few days of lectures, and his mum and friends might have called. Ugh. 

He pulls out his laptop, opens his email and cringes, waiting for the influx of notifications asking where he is, if he’s okay, when he’ll be back to his lectures, if he has a doctor’s note...

Instead he finds an email from each of his professors with a list of assignments for the week. One even mentions sending the first half of next week’s if he doesn’t see Louis on Monday. 

The last email to read is from Dr. Schwartz. He’d put off opening it; he’s terribly embarrassed that he’d explicitly told her when he’d switched into her lecture that he wouldn’t go into heat unexpectedly. He basically promised. He wouldn’t be surprised if she fired him. Or failed him in the lecture. (She probably can’t do that, right?)

He clicks on it and reads and waits for the crash of failure to barrel into him. 

What he finds instead is an email nearly identical to the ones from his other professors. Giving him his coursework, telling him she hopes he feels better soon, a reminder that they have a TA-ing check in on Monday, to let her know if they need to reschedule. 

Was it...did he…?

He closes his laptop and reaches for his phone to call Harry. 

He answers on the second ring. 

_ “Baby,” _ he breathes out, like he’s just woken up.  _ “You need another knot? Let me hear you, omega, wanna hear how much you need it.” _

Louis flushes from the center of his chest to the top of his ears. “Uh…” he says after a pause.

_ “Don’t get shy on me now,” _ Harry says through the phone, voice gruff. He can hear the sound of skin against skin in the background. Is he…?

“Are you wanking?” Louis asks. 

_ “Mmm of course, baby, just like I promised. Tell me what you’re doing, gonna help you through it.”  _

Louis can’t decide if this is funny or turning him on. Part of him wants to go along with it, pull his joggers down, get in that last wank. Another part of him wants to burst out laughing. He tries to hold back from doing either. 

“Uh, Curly, I think maybe—”

_ “Oh, Lou?” _ Harry says, surprised. The background noise stops. Louis finds he’s actually a bit disappointed. 

“I mean, you don’t have to stop on my account. Was actually kind of getting me hot.”

_ “Lou,” _ Harry says, lighter and softer.  _ “How are you? How are you feeling?” _

Louis smiles down at his joggers, pulling at a loose thread by his knee. “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

_ “Is it over?” _

“Yeah,” Louis says. Then shrugs to himself. “For the most part, anyway.” It sounds like Harry’s getting ready to say something, so Louis rushes to ask what he needs to before he gets side-tracked. “Did you email my professors?”

_ “Yeah, I did. Hope that’s okay.” _

Louis pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. “It is, thank you for doing that. What did you tell them?”

Harry coughs on the other end of the phone.  _ “I just said you fell ill suddenly and that you’d be out the rest of the week. I think most of them understood, anyway, but that’s to be expected.”  _

“Yeah,” Louis says. And then, because he’s curious. “So we talked a lot when I was out, yeah?”

_ “You called me as soon as I left the room,”  _ Harry says.  _ “Telling me how sorry I’d be that I did, and that you could’ve been sucking my dick right then if I hadn’t.” _

Louis laughs, a little embarrassed. “I did, huh?”

_ “Yeah, and then you narrated everything you were doing to yourself, said you wouldn’t be happy unless I came three times before the night was up.” _

“Oh.” Louis clears his throat, cheeks feeling warm.

_ “Honestly, it was fucking hot. Wanked myself raw to all your dirty talk, both with and without you on the phone to hear,” _ he says cheekily. 

“Mmm, I’m sure I was happy to hear some of it, at least.” 

_ “You were. And then you told me you were going to bed, and made me promise to send you dirty voice notes while you were napping so you’d have something to get off on when you woke up.” _

“Okay, okay that’s enough of— wait, did you?”

_ “Guess you’ll have to check your voice notes and see.” _

“I suddenly have to go, I’ve got a pressing matter to attend to.”

_ “Hey, wait, I can still help you! Maybe even in person.” _

“Actually, stay on the line while I do this. Want you to live in hell for a little bit while longer.”

_ “Lou.” _

“Bye, Curly.” 

_ “No wait!” _ he says, laughing. Louis loves that sound.  _ “I was hoping maybe… erm. Did you want to hang out tomorrow?” _

“Tomorrow?” Louis asks. 

_ “Yeah. I mean, I’d love for you to come over today, but since you’re just out of heat, I don’t want— I mean, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to come over to a house full of alphas.” _

“No, probably not.”

_ “And I haven’t been able to think of a good way to sneak into your room. You know, it truly is a safety hazard that there aren’t fire-escapes outside your window.” _

Louis laughs at that. 

_ “Not that I would, of course. Sneak into your room that is. Not unless you wanted me to.”  _

“What if I wanted you to?” Louis asks, dropping his voice a little lower. 

_ “Then I’ll learn how to scale a building.”  _

Louis laughs again. “You do that, Curly.”

_ “So… tomorrow?” _

Louis still has a lot of questions, wants to know what this means for them, what Harry’s thinking, why he left him for his heat (even though he’s got some memories coming back now, maybe asking Harry too). They’re probably better in person, anyhow. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come over tomorrow.”

_ “Great! I’ll pick you up.” _

“That’s okay Cur—”

_ “I want to! Does noon work?”  _

“Oh,” Louis says. He was sort of picturing a nighttime situation. One where he could be forgiven if his hands roamed a little, blame it on sleepiness and just-coming-out-of-heat fuzziness. “Yeah, noon is okay.” 

_ “I’ll see you then.” _

“Yeah alright. Now, go finish wanking.”

_ “Feel free to call me back if you need some real-time inspiration.” _

Louis giggles, and then tries to force a deeper laugh. Yikes, why is he  _ giggling  _ like a five year old? “I’ll be sure to do that, Curly.” 

They hang up and Louis sighs, clutching the phone to his chest for a full minute before he opens his laptop again, getting to work on what he missed this week. 

At just before noon the next day, Louis gets a text from Harry telling him he’s outside. Punctual motherfucker, Louis thinks as he races to finish getting ready. 

He wasn’t sure what to wear, is the thing. It feels like a statement, wearing or not wearing one of Harry’s tops now, and he doesn’t quite know what the statement means. 

In the end, Louis finds it’s not really possible to wear one of Harry’s anyway. Since they were on his bed during his heat, they have varying levels of bodily fluid dried on them. (Massively gross.) He ends up wearing joggers and his old (somewhat ratty) green t-shirt because the color reminds him of Harry’s eyes. (When did he become such a fucking sap.)

He zips up his big coat and feels the harsh chill of winter as he steps outside. Harry’s SUV is on the curb just outside the building, and Harry is leaning against it, beaming at Louis. 

If Louis beams back, it’s no ones business but his own. 

He looks gorgeous. Hair fluffed up and extra curly today, wearing a navy blue button down (open to his sternum) that Louis can see under his black coat, which is open, collar fluttering a bit in the wind. 

Even from yards away, Louis can smell him. Earthy, spicy, undercurrent of something floral and sweet. God, that’s strange. The best strange, to be able to smell so clearly from so far away after so long without it. Maybe he’ll ask his doctor about switching to a different brand of stabilizer (one they know will be an effective birth control for him). He always wants to be able to smell Harry from this far away. 

“Hi,” Harry says, when Louis just about reaches him. 

“Hi,” Louis says back. 

They both hesitate, unsure of how to proceed. Louis is pretty sure Harry wants him, that he did actually say he loved him and meant it, but going in for a kiss seems weird for some reason. After a beat, he holds his arms out for a hug, and Harry looks relieved as he pulls Louis flush against his body, not a breath of space between them. 

“Missed you,” Harry murmurs into his hair. 

Louis chuckles, goes to make a joke about how they probably talked more this week than the rest of the semester combined, but he finds his heart is beating too wildly for it. “Yeah,” he says instead. “Missed you, too.” 

He feels so warm, happy, safe in Harry’s arms. They’re strong around him, like Harry’s a fortress built just to keep Louis protected inside. 

Reluctantly, he starts to pull away and Harry does too. He opens the passenger door for Louis and they both get inside the car. 

After they’re buckled and settled, Harry starts driving. “I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat before heading to my house,” he says. He clears his throat a little and then cracks his window down a smidge. “There’s a new Italian place a couple of miles from here. The pasta is supposed to be unreal.”

“Oh,” Louis says, looking down at himself, tugging self-consciously at the material of his joggers at his knee. “I’m not really dressed for going out. I thought we were going to just be inside.” 

“That’s okay,” Harry says happily. He cracks his window a little more. “I don’t mind.”

“I sort of do,” Louis says honestly. 

“Oh,” Harry says, glancing over at him. “Oh. Yeah, no okay that’s fine.”

Louis instantly feels bad. “I suppose I could get changed, if you go back,” he offers. 

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”

“Maybe we could go get a slice of pizza instead?” Louis tries again. “Still Italian, but a bit less likely they’ll kick me out for improper attire.” He laughs. 

Harry doesn’t really return it. “No, another time.” He cracks the window down again.

Louis furrows his brows. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, no, everything’s fine,” he says, trying to lighten his voice.

“Fine,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest. If Harry wants to be in a fowl mood because Louis doesn’t want to go out, he can give it right back. 

“Hey, no, I’m sorry,” Harry says. The only reason Louis looks at him is because he actually sounds it. He glances between Louis and the road. “It’s my fault. I thought I was going to get to take you on a date today. And as much as I love pizza, it’s not what I had in mind. I just want to do it right. That’s all.” 

Louis stares at him for a minute. “Oh.” He furrows his brows. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Harry’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “It felt a bit formal, you know, over the phone, after we’d —uh— you know.” He coughs. “To actually say  _ Louis Tomlinson will you go on a date with me?  _ You know?”

It’s Louis who turns pink now. He can feel the heat bloom on his face. “I would have said yes,” he says. 

“Before or after you took the piss out of me?” Harry jokes. 

Louis laughs. “Definitely after.” 

Harry laughs too. “Yeah. But another time. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re free.” 

“We could still do a date today,” Louis says. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. I just… I like spending time with you.” 

Louis sees Harry’s left dimple pop out, positively lighting up as he tried to look at Louis while he keeps his eyes on the road. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, emboldened by his reaction. “Let’s get some take-away, watch a film. You can dress down to match me. A comfy first date. It’ll be proper nice, I think.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “It will.”

“And who knows,” Louis says. “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll even let you pick the film.”

Harry coughs again and rolls the window down a lot this time, so it’s only half open. “Already lucky,” Harry says after a pause. “Got a date planned with the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen.”

Louis looks between him and the open driver’s side window; he shivers a bit. Is Harry trying to air out his scent?

Harry shifts in his seat and Louis thinks he can see a bit of a bulge in his pants. 

_ Oh.  _

Well, that’s something. 

Louis plays into it, trying to hide his smile as he stretches his arms above his head and arches backwards. He can feel his coat and shirt ride up along his abdomen, showing off his hips and thighs, and he lets out a little hmph as he settles back down. When he looks back at Harry, his eyes flit up from his hips back to the road. 

He starts to slowly rub his palms along his thighs, widening them as he does so. Unzipping his coat a little to expose his neck and collarbone, he lengthens it, pretending to stretch that too. “Your car is really nice, Harry.”

“What?” he says, gaze torn between the juncture of his shoulder and the road. 

“Your car,” Louis says again, making his voice soft and low. “It’s really nice.”

“Thanks,” he whispers. 

“You know what else would be nice?”

“What,” he breathes out.

“If you didn’t crash it while ogling me.”

Harry looks up to his face, caught out. “I’m not.” 

“Uh-huh.” Louis brings his legs together and zips his coat back up. “You haven’t even fed me yet, Styles, what makes you think you can have dessert before dinner.”

“It’s lunch,” Harry says, kind of helplessly. 

Louis just laughs, more confident than he’s ever been with a boy. He finds himself feeling overly fond as he looks at Harry’s profile. (He doesn’t mind.) “How do you feel about Chinese as lunch then?”

They bring the food back to Harry’s frat house. It’s fairly quiet, but Louis can hear some distant chatter on the other side of the wall (is that Zayn’s voice?) that separates the entryway from the main living space. 

Harry moves further into the house, but Louis grabs his hand and stops him at the foot of the stairs. Harry automatically turns, squeezing his hand and smiling. Louis feels butterflies in his stomach. 

“What?” Harry asks. 

Louis’ eyes flicker up to the stairs. “I want to see your room.” 

“The food’ll get cold.”

“Ah, come on, only for a minute.” He tugs on his hand and Harry comes with him easily. “Want to see where you rest that curly head of yours at night.” 

They get to the second floor and Harry stops them in front of a door with the letter ‘H’ on it. 

“Very creative,” Louis teases. 

Harry rolls his eyes, smiling, and opens the door to let him step inside. 

There’s a bed on the left side of the room, neatly made and surrounded by fairy lights, with a bedside locker to the right of it. There’s also a desk and a very large closet on the opposite side of the room. Just behind the door, there’s a dresser, topped with nick-nacks, pictures and a jewelry dish with loads of different rings in it. 

“Nice,” Louis says, moving further into the room.

There are pictures lining the walls and a string with holiday and birthday cards hanging from it. It’s very sentimental and tender. Quite lovely. Louis wishes his room looked something like this. 

Naturally, he has to make fun of him for it. 

“Bit girly in here, innit?”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t care about being  _ girly.”  _ Harry answers, hovering by the door. 

Louis nods and unzips his jacket so he can shrug it off his shoulders. It’s actually quite warm in Harry’s room. “Have noticed, thanks.” 

“Would you prefer if I was less so?” Harry asks, voice a little timid. 

Louis turns around and answers very honestly, “I’d hate it if you were less.” 

Harry smiles a bit and looks down at this shoes, grabbing a hold of the door handle. 

Louis sits down on his bed, bouncing a bit. “Ooo, very nice, this,” he says. Then he lays down. It might be the most comfortable bed he’s ever been in. Or maybe it’s just better because it smells like Harry. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. Not anything like those thin dorm mattresses.” 

He takes a minute to appreciate the comfort of it all. The entire room smells like a walk in the countryside on a rainy day. It smells fresh and earthy. He can almost hear the raindrops, if he tries hard enough.

When he looks up, Harry looks positively stricken, knuckles white from how hard he’s clutching the handle and the bag of food in his other hand. 

“What?” Louis asks. 

It takes a full half minute for Harry to meet Louis’ eyes. “You just… you’re in my bed.” 

Louis cracks a smile. “I am.” 

“You… erm,” he closes his eyes and looks like he’s mouth-breathing. His jaw is clenched and his adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Do you want to go downstairs?” 

Louis watches Harry. He’s so hot, looks so affected just from Louis being in his space. He’s remembering the last time they were in a room like this together, and feels himself get a little wet thinking about Harry’s strong hands clutching at him instead of the door. 

He waits for him to open his eyes before pulling one knee up slowly and crossing his forearms above his head. “Do  _ you  _ want to go down stairs?”

“No,” he whispers quickly. 

Louis shakes his head. “Neither do I.” 

Immediately, Harry drops the bag to the floor and closes the door behind him, locking it before practically diving onto Louis, which makes Louis burst out laughing. 

“Harry!” he squeals when the alpha blows a raspberry on the side of his neck. He tries to hide his neck then by scrunching up his shoulders. It just makes Harry more insistent as he noses at his jaw and collarbones. “Christ, Harry, you’re crushing my leg!” 

Harry doesn’t stop trying to get at his neck, but he shuffles so he’s in between Louis’ thighs. Louis can feel the hard length against his groin now. It makes him start to thicken in his own pants. 

“Feels like your knot’s about to pop in there,” Louis jokes. 

Harry’s smiling when he pulls back, but he says seriously, “It might.”

“Bit soon for that, no?”

The alpha shakes his head. “Fuck no, have you looked in the mirror lately? Almost popped my knot as soon as you stepped out of your dorm.” 

Louis blushes and giggles. (He doesn’t mind the giggling as much this time, especially with the way it seems to soften Harry’s features.) “Would rather you popped your knot in me, if I’m honest.”

Harry grinds down against him, then pulls up again, like he didn’t mean too. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis nods. “If that’s what you want.”

The alpha groans and mouths at the side of Louis’ jaw. “Of course it is,” he mumbles into his skin. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured, Lou. I’ll always do anything you want.” He pulls back to look into his eyes. “I meant it. I love you and I want us to work.” 

Louis feels like crying. “Was that real?” he asks. “Did you really say you loved me?”

Harry pulls back even more. Or, well, he tries to, but Louis is holding on tightly with his arms woven around his back. “Yes. I did. I do.” His eyes search Louis’ face. “Does that freak you out?”

(Sort of. Trevor said that to him, too. Trevor used it against him whenever he could.)

(But mostly not. Harry isn’t anything like Trevor. Not even close.) 

“You just seem so sure,” Louis says. “And I… I’m not that sure. If that’s okay?” 

“Of course it is, Lou,” Harry says earnestly, dropping his face down so their foreheads are touching. “But I— I know we haven’t known each other all that long. But I’ve always felt this pull to you, from the minute I laid eyes on you. And your ex was a fucking psychopath and I want to protect you from all of that. So even if you need me to back off. I don’t want to, but if you need me to, I will. I’ll do anything for you, Lou.” 

Louis breathes out heavily, overwhelmed. “Don’t,” he says, at a loss for anything else. He tilts his chin up and their lips brush together softly. He can feel the shaky breath Harry exhales. “Kiss me,” Louis says, and not a moment later, Harry does. 

Its soft, sweet and causes tingles to flow through Louis’ body. He knows they’ve kissed before. Knows they’ve fucked before. Knows that this is in no way their first anything, but it feels like something new to Louis. He knows he’ll always think of this as their first real moment together, where they’re both on the same page. 

“Will you?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Harry says, starting to kiss down his neck. But no—

“No, Harry wait,” Louis says, and Harry immediately stops and looks up at him.

“We don’t—”

“No, no,” Louis says, shaking his head. He brings his hands to cup Harry’s face and thumbs over his bottom lip. He swallows, feeling vulnerable and awkward, even if he knows he doesn’t really have a reason to. “Harry, will you be my alpha?”

Out of Harry’s mouth comes the most glorious whimpering sigh he’s ever heard. But he seems to be holding back. 

“I want you to, Harry,” Louis says earnestly. “I trust you. Want to be your omega.” 

A low rumble, a weak whine, a flood of sweet, sunshine-through-rain heavenly smells blanketing around him. Harry surges down to kiss him, smiling and whining and saying  _ yes  _ over and over and over again. 

And that  _ —that—  _ is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to Louis. It causes a rush of slick to gush out of him. And he’d think that was super gross if Harry didn’t inhale deeply and immediately react like it was the best thing in the world. 

Louis starts to unbutton Harry’s shirt all the way until it falls open and then moves down to his jeans. He starts trying to push his shirt off and jeans down at the same time. Harry realizes and sits up so he can do it himself. Louis runs his hands down his alpha’s toned muscles, humming appreciatively. 

His alpha. 

Louis pulls his hands away only to shimmy his own joggers and pants down his thighs. Harry stands so he can get the rest of his clothes off and help Louis pull off his bottom layers. 

He’s on him again in a flash, even pulls Louis’ green shirt down a little from where it flipped up on his tummy. A surge of warmth and love shoots through him. He kisses Harry harder than he ever has. 

Harry’s cock is unbelievably hard between his legs and he’s making these needy little sounds every time he rocks his hips forward. It’s already so good. 

“I, uh, mmm,” Louis says and then gets distracted by the way Harry’s lightly biting at his neck. “Got you a present,” he finally gets out. 

“A present? For me?” Harry asks, distractedly, kissing down his chest and licking through the material. He feels his nipples harden. 

“Well, sort of a present for both of us, I guess.” 

Harry’s hand skims down his thigh and runs a finger down his crack through the slickness. “Oh yeah?”

“In my jacket pocket.” 

Harry just nods and continues to mouth all over Louis’ chest. He can’t help the way he arches his back to try and get him even closer (even if it’s physically impossible). 

“Go get it,” Louis says. 

“Later,” Harry growls, now rubbing two fingers against his hole. He feels another rush of slick and it causes Harry to bite down on the skin at his belly through the shirt, moaning. 

“You’re gonna want it now,” Louis insists. 

“I don’t want anything but you now.” 

Another zip of warmth to his heart. (And groin.) 

He grabs hold of his hair to pull his head up until they make eye-contact. “I’m telling you right now, you’re gonna want it.” 

Harry looks exasperated, but shuffles away when Louis let’s go of his hair. Louis watches as Harry practically tears open all the pockets of his jacket as quickly as he can, slowly jerking his own cock as he watches Harry’s slap against his abs with the movement. 

Finally, Harry pulls out a box of condoms, eyes wide and the corners of his mouth starting to turn up in a smile. “Yeah?”

Louis nods. He’d gone out last night and bought them, ignoring the hovering alpha’s who could probably smell he was just out of heat. He didn’t want to be caught wanting Harry and not being able to fuck him. “Want you in me again. Make me forget how awful it was to have that plastic instead of your knot.” 

Harry’s nodding as he climbs back onto the bed. 

Louis sees a bit of precome at the tip of it and his mouth waters. “Let me suck you,” he says, already rolling on his side to lift himself up. 

“You don’t have to,” Harry says, hesitant. 

“I know I don’t have to, I want to,” Louis says pushing him so his alpha is lying flat on his back. He wastes no time licking slowly up the underside of his shaft and is rewarded with a fantastic growl from Harry. 

He covers his teeth and opens his mouth as wide as he can (around his massive fucking cock) and sucks lightly at the head. “Oh, baby,” Harry moans. “Oh fuck, your mouth.” 

Louis ducks down further at the praise and keeps sucking. 

He tastes so alpha, full of arousal and spice and freshness. He’s never tasted anything he wants more. 

“Yeah, you’re so good, so so good, Lou,” Harry babbles. “Love your mouth, love your hands, love your body, love you, fuck.” He takes a breath through his teeth when Louis opens his mouth wider to tongue messily at the underside. Louis looks up to see that Harry’s watching him, clutching tightly at the duvet, biting his lips. “Look so good like this. Love your eyes, love your tongue on me.” He bucks lightly into Louis’ mouth, which causes him to gag a bit. 

He pulls off and takes a big breath, ready to go back down again, but Harry’s sitting forward and pulling him up to kiss him, taste himself on Louis’ tongue, and fits one hand around to grip his arse. 

Louis hears himself whining as Harry rubs three fingers over his rim just before shoving one inside. He tilts his head back and then it’s like Harry’s nose is attached to his neck, inhaling him with every breath and moaning his enjoyment. 

“My omega, smells so good, feels so good for me. Love having me inside you, don’t you? Went out and bought me a present just to feel me inside you again.” 

Christ, Louis really didn’t know he was so into dirty talk, but with every sentence he feels himself getting wetter and wetter, like Harry might be able to slip right in without prep at all. 

Harry does prep him, but it’s not long before he’s two, and now three, fingers deep, letting Louis rock back on his hand to get him deeper. But it’s still not enough. 

“Get in me,” he whines. “Fuck me, alpha.”

“Gonna fuck you,” Harry growls. “Fuck you so good. Fuck you like I wanted to during your heat.” 

Louis pants out his moans. “So deep in me. Want to feel you for days. Want to feel you forever.” 

“Want to be in you forever,” Harry answers easily. He grasps for the box of condoms, but has a hard time opening it with his slick-covered hand. Louis takes it from him impatiently and rips it open, grabs a condom and throws the box off the side of the bed. 

“Can’t wait for me to be inside you, can you,” Harry says, pleased. 

Louis tears the wrapper and starts rolling the condom down Harry’s length. “Shut the fuck up,” he whines, needy and wanting, “just fuck me.”

He lines himself up and Harry thrusts right in, almost subconsciously, so he’s already halfway inside without Louis having to move at all. He sobs out and claws at Harry’s shoulders while his alpha clutches at his hips. 

“Sorry, baby,” Harry says. “I’m sorry, shh.” 

Harry obviously thinks he’s crying from pain, but it’s the opposite. It’s like he almost feels complete, almost feels fully like he wants to. Wants to get there quickly. Wants his alpha totally inside him. 

Louis lowers himself the rest of the way with Harry guiding him, making him go slower than he wants to, kissing him all the while. When he’s fully seated, he’s got his arms wrapped around his alpha’s neck, pulling him in tightly to his chest, and Harry’s got a firm grip around Louis’ waist, grasping at his t-shirt to lock him in place

They can both feel when they’re ready and start moving in tandem. Up and down, creating the best sort of friction. 

“The best omega in the world,” Harry whispers reverently to Louis’ jaw. “My best omega.”

Louis quickens the pace of his hips and moans. “Mine,” he says, gripping at Harry’s hair and humping forward. 

“Mine,” Harry responds, snaking an arm back around to jerk Louis’ cock. Louis cries out from the pressure and moves even faster. 

“Knot me, alpha,” he cries. “Knot me. Knotmeknotmeknotme.”

Harry lets loose a deepest growl yet and thrusts hard up into Louis, locking his knot in place inside of him and he feels Harry shoot off into the condom. It’s enough to make Louis come hard, up onto his t-shirt and all across Harry’s hand and chest. They work through their orgasms and slow their movements, breathing heavily into the side of each other’s necks. 

When they come down, Louis starts petting the back of Harry’s hair and chuckles a little. “Wow.”

He feels Harry nodding into his chest, smiling into the material at shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. 

“I’m sorry I still have my shirt on,” Louis says, squirming a little. 

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, Lou, don’t be sorry. Never be sorry, always want you to feel good. Safe.” 

Louis nods. “I just. You’ve just been so sweet. Waiting so patiently. So good to me already and I— I want to be able to do that for you, but I just can’t right now.” 

“You don’t have to do anything for me,” Harry says. “I don’t expect anything from you.” 

Louis sighs. “I’ve just… I’ve still got things to work out, you know? I hate that I have my shirt on. That I need to have my shirt on.”

“I love you just as you are,” Harry insists. Louis’ heart flutters. “As long as you feel comfortable I’m happy.”

Louis feels a small smile on his face, shaking his head. “Who even are you, Styles?”

Harry’s face splits into the widest grin. He pushes his forehead to Louis’, not breaking eye-contact. “I’m your alpha, baby.”

Louis feels like he’s showing all of his teeth as he grins back. “Okay.” 

“You wanna head downstairs? Heat the food up and put on that film?”

Louis nods and he pushes himself flat against Harry’s chest to hug him close, smearing more of his come into the shirt. “Oh,” he says. “I guess I need to change.” He looks up to Harry’s gleaming eyes. “Can I borrow a shirt?”

Harry nods. “I’ll never say no to that.”

Louis giggles. (He might actually like giggling, maybe, as long as Harry’s the one causing it.) “Say goodbye to all of your clothes, then, Curly.”

His alpha kisses him softly, pulling him in tightly again as he murmurs into his mouth, “Gladly.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](https://absoloutenonsense.tumblr.com/) if you want to see me post nonsense. (pls ignore the atrocious aesthetic of the page)
> 
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> *EDIT*  
> Genuinely overwhelmed by your lovely comments and all the love you've shown my lil fic. Thank you so much!  
> If you want to reblog the fic on tumblr, this is [my post](https://absoloutenonsense.tumblr.com/post/189919512971).


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